Sundays

Sundays here feel so...empty.

I know I am not the only peace corps volunteer that watches mournfully as the minutes pass like hours.

Sunday's always seem so stinkin long!

On Sunday's it's hard for my thoughts not to turn towards home. It's been a long time since I have been "homesick" . Mark and I would both say our hardest time, in regards to missing home, was last Christmas season.

Today I feel homesick.

Maybe it's that the seasons are changing (not here, but at home). Maybe it's that we've already been here a year. This is our second September 15. Our second "misionali". Seconds seem strange. Maybe its that we're coming home soon (December-for a whole month! How we'd love to see you all!). Maybe I just miss you.

What I wouldn't give to throw on some blue jeans, slip some boots on, throw a scarf around my neck and meet you for a pumpkin spice latte. To see the golds, oranges, reds of fall, to hear the crunch of the leaves. To laugh and gossip and cry (let's face it, I almost always do when we have our heart to hearts).

The thing with Tonga is....everything is blue (ocean) and green (coconut trees). And it's warm (okay....warmer. I've still been wearing a fleece but I've just got some weird internal temperature issues happening now that I've survived a south pacific summer with no fan). And even if one of you were here, there are no pumpkin spice lattes to be had in this country. And even if there were pumpkin spice lattes to be had, this is Sunday. Nothing is allowed on Sunday. Nothing is open. No work is allowed. No playing is allowed. No. Thing.

Thinking of a Sunday fall day back home....

Lisi