On entering the US for the first time in 15 months

First person I told I hadn’t been home in 15 months: The man who had just sat next to me for 8 hours and 52 minutes on the flight from Paris to Minneapolis

First person I texted: My roommate from college while still on the plane at the gate in Minneapolis

First realization about life here versus Benin: I can understand what everyone says and people can understand everything I say (i.e. when I’m mumbling to myself about what people around me are doing)

First time I wanted to text a Peace Corps volunteer and couldn’t: When I had the realization that I didn’t have to be so aggressive while standing in line at US customs because cutting in line is not socially acceptable here

First thing I bought: Pumpkin white chocolate mocha with skim milk, no whip from the Caribou coffee next to my gate in the Minneapolis airport

First time I was concerned I would cry when I landed in my hometown: Drink service on the flight from Minneapolis to KC

First face I recognized at the KC airport:  My mom

Tell the world that...

I had a blog topic ready to go; I really did. I’ve been back in village for a day; I mean really back in village. None of this spending a day readjusting by watching episodes of The Wire. 

But then my plans changed and suddenly, I’m leaving my village in less than 24 hours to start my 3-day journey back to the US for a two-week vacation.  And the only words that were left make me think of a Diddy chorus:

…I’m coming home.