I have started and deleted this blog post 4 times now, because when you know others are reading it, it's hard to be youself in case you bore people. I don't have any funny stories right now, and John is standing by the computer really bugging me with his cling-y-ness. I had some really good material yesterday, but now it's flown from my head and I'm left with just the bare authenticity that is me.

I have been in China three months now and I am acutely aware that what adapting to being here means to me, is that I feel like I am no where. My mom used to snip pieces of ivy off a larger plant and put it into a glass of water. Slowly, it would send out roots into the water, hoping to be planted into soil and into a small pot of it's own. I am like that little cutting, no solid earth beneath my feet; but unable to return to my former place on the tree.

We have been here long enough to be affected; permanently changed so that there is nothing left to do but go forward because the people who left Canada, and the life that was there in that way don't exist anymore. We know enough of the language that it doesn't sound "Chinese" anymore, it sounds like words we understand. The exotic faces that used to blend into a sea of black haired people, are now individuals, as different from one another as you and I, with purpose and destiny that we care about.

What does it all mean? I'm not really sure. I have heard some say that it takes 3 months to 2 years to adjust to living in a foreign country. I am staring to realize that after 2 years, it won't be me living in China, having found a niche for myself that's comfortable and familiar. I'll never be that me again. I had better get on to finding some good soil. - Kelley