time and its creepiness

One week left of classes and I just can’t believe it. I sit here on my bed, my sister at her computer, listening to Christmas music and feeling like time has crept up on me. Was it really three months ago that I was in the airport, waving goodbye to my mom at security? Have I really survived Russia? I don’t know if I’m completely ready to leave yet. I remember arriving in the JFK airport, struggling with my over-packed bags, making the trek to the Lufthansa terminal. My guitar on my back, my handbag on my arm and my two rolling suitcases; what was I thinking? My shoulders and back were so sore the first week in St. Petersburg. I definitely learned my lesson. I don’t know how I’m going to manage on the way back, with all the souvenirs I’ve bought. I think I’m leaving some stuff here. A part of me will always be in Russia that way! I remember my first interaction with Lica and then meeting some of the gang once I got past security. Stephanie was the first one I really connected with. I remember sitting at the gate, observing everyone and honestly thinking: “they’re probably all a bunch of nerds.” Well…I wasn’t 100% wrong.

Today I went with my sister to her social club. For an hour and thirty minutes I sat there while they all discussed things in Russian. I did have a chance to pipe up and explain how to play duck duck goose. They were planning an event for children and needed some ideas for games. Later this afternoon we had a sport’s competition. All our families were invited to come, along with the Russian students who help in the international office, and we separated into three teams and did a whole bunch of silly relays. My team was second. Surprisingly, it was a lot of fun. I totally biffed it in the snow afterwards though. I could hear mumbling behind me and knew that the boys were planning some sort of white wash attack… and I was the target. So I interfered by defending myself and pushed good old Danny Boy around, to show him who’s boss of course, but found myself tripping over the sidewalk and fell flat on my face in the snow. I laid there for a few minutes while everyone laughed. Of course no one was kind enough to help me up so I managed on my own. That’s how it’s done in Russia.

Yesterday I went and saw my kids at the orphanage. They are so fun. Tiring but fun. I only have one more Friday with them. So sad. As we were leaving, the little little ones were walking down the hall single file. My heart just sank. I love those little guys. I couldn’t help but form a huge smile on my face. One of the little boys started talking to me and I just said ‘I don’t know’ (in Russian of course), then a second later he had turned around and started walking towards me talking to me again. I patted his adorable little head and I said ‘I don’t understand.’ The poor guy. I’m sure he was super confused. They are the cutest. Oh my word. I just want to take them all home with me. I think I want to adopt a Russian baby someday. I would love to do that. Then my Russian would come in handy! I’m doing a research paper on orphans and homeless children in Russia and have found out so far that 95% of the children in orphanages actually have a living parent at home. They wind up there because their parents take to alcoholism. Talk about sad. Yula, one of the girls, just yesterday told Lica and Stephanie that her dad died two weeks ago. This is reality.

Speaking of reality, I received some unsettling news. My little brother is going to Iraq. For those of you who don’t know, he’s in the Marine Reserves and it was actually his choice to go. He flies to North Carolina early January and does some training for a month or so and then ships off to Iraq until October. I just can’t believe it. I had convinced myself this would never happen, especially with him being in the Reserves. But…Scotty seems to be really excited about it and my family really supports his decision. He can make his family proud, but he’s gotta come back alive. That’s all I ask. He’s my little brother and only 19 (next month). So, I’m really antsy to get home now. Thankfully I’ll get to see him at Christmas before he goes off and becomes a hero.

My host sister just asked me this morning over breakfast if I thought my life will be different when I go back home. I told her yeah, I hope so. How could it not be? An experience like this will change anyone I think. I’ll still be the same ol Caryn from the block, but life will by no means be the same.