I cried while packing. I cried on the way to Kroger to cash in my coins. I teared up while pushing my pennies and dimes through the slots. I cried while saying goodbye to Bobah (Dad). I cried on the way to the airport. I teared up while getting my boarding pass. I cried (hard) while saying goodbye to Madar (Mom) and to my baby brother. They cried. My cousin, Z, called and cried.
We're the cryingest family in the world.
I'm starting to cry now at the free internet lounge at JFK airport. Or maybe I'm crying because I had a quarter pounder with cheese and want to vomit right now.
I hate goodbyes and I don't know why I'm going right now. I'm a bit overwhelmed and I just want to go home (in the U.S.). I don't know what possessed me to think I could leave all my family and friends and move to Kabul and pretend like it could be my home.
I didn't cry the other times I went to Afg. This time is particularly hard.