Today, two years ago, we came back home after five months of an amazing adventure we took as a family. Not everything was pretty or fun or amazing. But sometimes it was all of these, at the same time. But most of all, it is unforgettable.
We talk about our days in India almost every single day. And we have realized we are forgetting some of the details, and some of the names, and some of the little Hindi we learned. We don’t want to forget. We want it to be present, because it has shaped our lives in a way we will never really know. But no matter what, we are here today, with photos, memories, new friends, and many stories that we have been recalling to make sure we are still there, too.
Every day I’m still looking for God
and I’m still finding him everywhere,
in the dust, in the flowerbeds.
Certainly in the oceans, in the islands that lay in the distance
continents of ice, countries of sand
each with its own set of creatures
and God, by whatever name.
How perfect to be aboard a ship with
maybe a hundred years still in my pocket.
But it’s late, for all of us,
and in the truth the only ship there is
is the ship we are all on
burning the world as we go.
—-Mary Oliver, from her book of poems A Thousand Mornings.