While Stephen stayed in the US to wrap a few things up, I’ve been home juggling life with our crew of thirteen. Naturally, I figured it was the perfect time to open a new café. Needless to say, my days have been a little bit full. One of my hopes in returning to Nepal was to carve out more time for writing, and, well… today is the first time I’ve found the space to begin.

Did I forget anything? I hovered over the last order that I would send to Stephen before he begins his journey home. Three and a half months in the States was more than enough time for my heart to grow attached to routines, people, and comforts that I’ve long learned to live without. To say that life in South Asia differs from life in the US would barely scratch the surface. When I was younger and had all the kids in tow, the cost of leaving that life felt lighter and more easily justified by the adventure ahead. But it all feels different now. We’re getting closer to a decade of living oceans away from family, some of our kids are on another continent, our parents are aging… we’re aging. Last summer, we nearly bought a house when we were there. This year, we’ve begun to seriously ask when this chapter of full-time work in Nepal might come to a close. We aren’t leaving anytime soon, but I’m recognizing that my heart has so many more pulls in that direction than when we first boarded the plane with a newborn in my arms, a thousand dreams in our pockets, and all the time in the world stretched out ahead of us.

I’ve been home for forty days. It was a deep exhale to curl up in my own bed again, but I’d be dishonest if I didn’t admit that the return came with its fair share of frustrations. The house wasn’t maintained well, and I spent the better part of the first week scrubbing a sticky black film from nearly every surface. While I was away, the bank froze my business account and I spent several long afternoons in Prabhu (alongside my lawyer) waiting, explaining, pleading… until they finally released the funds, but not before closing the account altogether. And then, there are the everyday adjustments… limited grocery options, relearning how to cook with what’s available, a ridiculous and unexpected amount of power outages, remembering that lines are more of a suggestion than a system, several days without hot water, and of course, I’ve taken it upon myself to educate the community on the proper use of the newly painted crosswalk on the main road outside of our office (a quiet mission of hope, if nothing else).

But after the initial waves of culture shock and the emotions of our recent goodbyes, I began to settle back into home… into the rhythms of life here. I spent time in our community catching up with shop owners and friends, time laughing with staff and students in the office, hugged the girls in our house, and watched my own daughters reclaim the freedoms they don’t have in the US—riding the scooter through Bhaisepati, walking to the shop, helping out at the café, meeting friends in the middle of the afternoon… small things maybe, but they hold a sense of belonging that’s hard to replicate.

The warmth and hospitality of this culture go far beyond anything we’ve experienced in the States. Driving through the city may feel chaotic and unpredictable, but walking its streets, you’re almost certain to greet a friend, make a new one, or be invited to sit down for a cup of chai. There’s also a quiet, special bond with our expat friends; an unspoken connection that makes those relationships feel naturally comfortable. Today, it’s much harder to imagine leaving this home than it was when we touched down forty days ago. I wouldn’t call it fickle, rather it’s simply that I love both places deeply, each in their own way. I’m totally an in-the-moment kind of gal, and aside from the lucky few who remain the recipients of the funny reels I send, I’ve noticed my communication with friends back in the States has tapered off. I think that’s okay. Maybe even healthy.

Cooking here still has its challenges, but we’re slowly rediscovering the flavors we missed… Krishpa’s dal, turmeric and ghee-fried rice with mula achar, and milk tea after church. Even Zella, who was quite particular about food in the States, finished every bite of biryani and spicy pickled veggies on the flight home.