I wanted to write you this letter on the one-year anniversary of leaving China. I started to write it last July, but I don't know what happened. Maybe I felt like what I had to say was too small and disorganized. Maybe I just got distracted wth the necessities of living every day life. But mostly I think I was afraid that you would be disappointed with me, forgetting the lessons you taught me as I took on the role of your teacher. At any rate, I didn't write to you, and I'm sorry.
Last night I had a dream. I dreamt that I was in China again, and I was alive with excitement to see you all. I had a friend with me, and I pointed you out to her, each of you by name. Your faces were so vivid to me, and I remember thinking that I was afraid that you had forgotten me, and that other teachers had replaced me in your hearts. It is a childish, selfish fear, but for some reason when I woke up I felt inspired to finish this letter to you. After all, what I have to say to you is important to me.
When I left China, it was with a sense of excitement to finally return to my family and friends. I had learned a lot on my little adventure, but I was happy to be home again. I was happy with the thought of not living out of a suitcase anymore, happy to think that once again I could be solid and put down roots. To have more money than what I needed to barely scrape by.
But when I returned, I found that I was actually quite unhappy. It took me a long time to get a job, and an even longer time to adjust to living with someone else again. I had been terribly lonely while I was in China, even with your wonderful friendship, but having someone around me constantly just didn't fit at first. I had gotten to used to my solitary life, walking two miles to the grocery store, listening to music. Sitting at a coffeeshop and writing, watching people interact around me. Running on the track at night, going to the dance club on the weekend. I spent most of my time alone, but I knew that I ever needed anyone, I could just call one of you.
You always included me in your parties, your outings, your lunches and your lives. I appreciated how much you encouraged me to explore China, to interact with new people, and to try to be the best kind of teacher I could. I worked hard on your lessons because I wanted them to be helpful to you. I wanted you to get everything you could out of my class, and mostly I wanted you to come away with the impression that people from my country are open, friendly, and fun. We're not all like the ones you see on the movies.
One thing I learned when I came back to my home is that you can live, painfully, with only half a heart. You, my students, and all of China will always have the other half. I loved my life when I lived there with you, and I loved all of you very much. You made me change in a way that was necessary, in a way that made me stronger and braver than I have ever been. It made me appreciate what I have and what I don't. And it made me miss you so very much. There is always a part of me that will belong only to you.
I hope that you will all go out and do things that are scary to you, that you push yourself past your comfort zones and try something new. I hope you follow after the dreams you chased when I met you. I hope you know that when your country was in the spot light at the last Olympic games, I was looking at you proudly saying "That used to be my home," while tears formed in my eyes.
I hope someday that my life can be as lovely as it was when I was with you. I hope to have the time for all the things I love, and also the time to stop, arrested by the beauty of a flowering peach tree, as I saw a girl once do in China. I hope you know how much you all mean to me, and that I think of you often. I hope that I will make you proud.
All my love always,
Miss Kayla
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