I was gone for over a week during fall break. After a long bus ride, getting off on the highway, and slogging across the damp, cold fields to my house, I was filled with relief as I pushed open the squeaky gate of our yard and was greeted by the dog with much dancing and tail wagging. I walked into the house and dropped my stuff to begin taking off my boots. My host mother and brother came in from the kitchen all smiles. Alla told me that she had just dropped her spoon and said to Igor that I was going to be home soon. She then said they had missed me. I was surprised and touched. In the past two years I have come and gone quite often on random excursions around Ukraine, sometimes for a couple of days, sometimes for over a month, but rarely, especially after only a week of absence, have they told me that I had been missed. Not that they haven’t missed me before, I’m sure they have, but it’s just not something that’s said. Once again I wondered how I am going to say goodbye.
