Crying in Chik-Fil-A

Last night I went to Chik-Fil-A with my Mom and the kids.

And I cried.

Not a big cry. But I teared up as I returned to the table with our order.

And here is the thing. It wasn't out of happiness. It wasn't because I was eating at Chik-fil-A.

It was out of a different kind of emotion welling somewhere deep inside me.

It was the fact that the boys didn't want to go in the play area because, in their words, "Dare's too many kids in dare."

It was that as I ordered my food, as nice as they are in Chik-Fil-A, I could feel that I was slower than they were used to in making my decisions. I could feel people pushing to get by me. I couldn't remember where to slide my credit card. I wasn't sure where they kept the ketchup.

Oh and I could get some water for free. That blew my mind.

It was family night. They were giving kids tattoos. My boys thought that was a terrible idea. I could tell that they were feeling out of their comfort zone as much as I was.

They keep calling every restaurant they see, "Old McDonalds." There is only one stand-alone fast food restaurant that we have ever seen in Turkey. And it is a McDonalds. So Boston Market? McDonalds. Wendy's? Must be McDonalds.

When we landed in Washington D.C., Isaac spotted a bit of a skyline, and he immediately told Amanda that that was the M1/Optimum -- the only mall or "big building" my boys ever see.

Right before dinner we went to Target. The kids were wide-eyed. They were pointing and touching at everything. I ended up taking my Mom around the store about three times, unsure of how to navigate such an incredible number of rows. When I wanted to get cash back at the register, I had no idea how to do it. I didn't know the answer to the question: "Do you want all of this on one card?" What other card would I put it on.

I really tried. When I came here, I was going to not focus on the differences. I was going to just enjoy being home. I wasn't going to be that annoying person who kept talking about where she lived and how different it is.

But while I have been trying to focus on being home, my spirit, my being, can feel that this is very different. Uncomfortably different. So many people. Such straight lines. Such order. Such choices. Such traffic.

I don't belong in Turkey. It doesn't feel like home to me. Not when I leave Base anyway.

But I realize, that this doesn't feel like home to me either. I'm sure it will. Probably by the time I leave, it will all come back to me.

But not right now.