Wish you were here...

...When I see the kid who wears the infant-sized snowsuit walking around the village. With the light yellow hood up like an eskimo, and the puffy legs and sleeves reaching mid-calf and to the elbow, with the child's bony brown hands and feet sticking out...it's so lonely laughing out loud alone.

...When we have the same lunch for the 100th day in a row. Yellow rice, deep fried fish, with the rare vegetable warrants an eye-rolling, but no one understand the gesture or the meaning behind it.

...When I took a bite of pizza for the first time in six months- last night- and it felt so much like home it took my breath away. And then I looked at the women in veils at the next table over, and the man in the turban asking for money, and I wish someone had been there to help ease the transition.

...When it's 3:00am and the roosters are crowing, the dogs are barking, the donkeys are making whatever hideous noise it is that they make- and I can't sleep and I'm reading by candlelight and I would love to hear how it's going, being asleep in America.