I remember wondering on Thanksgiving if December would fly by in Nyuh Kuning the way it does in the States. The answer is yes. Despite the relative lack of Christmas pandemonium, and the presence of the occasional tinsel-clad hibiscus trees on the counters of certain restaurants in town, it really looks nothing like Christmas time. The difference I suppose is that it feels like it. Not in the sense of Christmas carols, warm sweaters, family gatherings, stockings and green-bean casserole, but in the sense of reflection and celebration that comes in preparation for the New Year. It is staggering to think about the distance traveled from a year ago. Where there is the absence of cool temperatures and snug fires here, there is a lull in the rice growing season as the fields are lying fallow between harvests. The weather is extreme in the suffocating heat and humidity. It begs the certainty that if you closed your fist in the air before you, water would run through your fingers. It feels like winter without the cold. The weather is nearing hardship in a completely polar sense than in the States - it feels like December.
It occurred to me the other day that we are at the half-way mark of our journey here. I can’t begin to wrap my mind around what is in store for us in these coming weeks and months. Where do we go from here? I think the tension of that question lies for us not in the absence of knowing, but in the full sense of what is now possible.