Maybe redemption is stories to tell…

As I sit here in the Dhaka airport, choking back tears and the giant lump in my throat that has grown so big its hard to get the word “Canadian” around it, I think about how the only thing crazier than the fact that I’m heading home today, is the fact that I’ve been living in Bangladesh for the past 3 ½ months. Going home will be different. I feel older. Not in a bad way, but in a strange, settled way. Its interesting that disrupting my life and traveling to a tumultuous country on a frustrating trip having unknown adventures should make me feel more settled, but in a way I feel I have learned myself more. Not that I have changed or adapted or became something different than what I was before, but that I know myself more. I have exposed a new face of myself that was always there, but that never came forth either because of lack of opportunity or necessity. I feel I have expanded into myself more. They say we use only a small percentage of our brains, and I have a feeling we also use only a small percentage of ourselves as well. I am the same person that came through this airport 3 ½ months ago, but I feel bigger, feel like I fit into myself better.