Susan LaffertyChristmas season. Spent last year in a world-class city. One of our favorites.
All shiny and bright. Perfect lights. Colors on point.
Christmas soundtrack playing continually. In stores. And on the streets. Everywhere.
In an Asian city.
“Just sing to Me.”
Memory rises up. From twenty years ago.
I’m traveling in the river of motorcycles and public transport vehicles. Cars and buses. All pressed together in the rush of a mountain city’s traffic.
Navigating the ebb and flow as I drive. Mentally engaged. But not.
Thoughts drift far away. Heart sits heavy.
All around me, the hum and blare of engines revving, horns blowing, peddlers calling.
During our second month in Pakistan, our family of three traveled north to Murree. For a month of intensive language learning and cross-cultural adjustment.
We stayed in one of several flats (apartments) that made up an old house on the side of the mountain.
And began learning new patterns for living.
Language study. Shopping for groceries. Cooking with new ingredients. Boiling our drinking water. Washing clothes and hanging them on the line.
Breathing fresh mountain air eased the adjustments. New friends helped us find our way.
