The first time it hits you
You’re lying in bed and everything is quiet
And there’s something you feel that’s missing.
If you see a familiar sight,
It’s bittersweet in your gut.
Your family calls you–where they are
It’s 4 in the afternoon
But you’ve just woken up.
It’s the little things that rub on you
Like when the computer is in a different language
When the electric sockets are not what you’re used to
(Round holes instead of slits? Are you kidding me)
When the sun sets past your normal bedtime
And nothing, not even the faces you’ve known since first grade,
can make you feel really comfortable
So the least you can do is wrap yourself in the malong
that used to belong to your grandmother.
This is a strange place
But you’ll miss it when you leave
So stop griping and live in the moment
The world is bigger and you’re a part of it
So why feel uncomfortable?
After all, if you never forget where you came from
You won’t find it hard to come back