The Road Home
The final destination, the road home. The feeling of being nowhere but everywhere all at once; the feeling of being in the middle of the ocean. No one could hear the music playing on deck nine, and no one could see us dancing on the deck in the rain, a thriving floating city all to ourselves. Then we were discovered as we pulled into United States waters to dock in Hawaii. I was ecstatic to learn about a place and culture often mislabeled and underrepresented. I joined my journalism class to roam the streets of markets, local eateries, and the only palace on US soil. I talked with natives and explored island life. I learned how deep their culture runs. I saw familiar vehicles and signs in a language I understood. The short day came to a close as I stood in line to get my bags checked, patted down, and swipe in one last time. It was refreshing to fully understand the amount of culture still yet to explore in the states. I stood on the back deck with a dear shipmate as we watched the ship pull away one last time, we waited for the horn to sound, the pilot boats to drift away, and the sounds of bands on shoreline bars to fade into ocean waves. We were back at sea, home, and where we belonged for a few more days.
These days at sea consisted of class finals, fancy dinners, and a final ball. We each went through processes of rationalization. We went through a formal re-entry program. However, the truth is we each knew only one thing; we had no expectations for the country we were about to enter.
I spent my final days taking naps in the sun, watching the sunset until the moon rose, and the last night in the union dancing and chatting with the only ones who could soon use the word “understand” appropriately.
I woke early on December 23, 2017, to see the sunrise over the San Diego skyline. I huddled with my friends as we felt the wind at the front of the ship one more time. As we neared, families appeared with signs welcoming their loved ones. I cleared my cabin, thanked my stewardess, and headed to my favorite round table in the dining hall. My friends joined as we sat listening to announcements after announcement, each one bringing us closer to separation. An organized process of disembarkation meant we walked off the ship, leaving some of our friends on board. When the cue came, I looked around the room, eyes filled with tears, and I hugged the people around me tightly. Existing, I passed staff, facility, and crew that had become family. I swiped my ship ID one last time before handing it in, little did they know I had two the second is a reminder of the voyage and that exploration never ends.
I spent the day with my friend’s family in culture shock of the California ways of movement, walked about the airport for hours, and boarded a flight heading east. However, it was a dream it felt like another airplane with new friends in a new place, and in six days, I would walk through the gangway, down the hall, to my cabin. I kept going making my way to Detroit existing through the same gate I had entered four months prior when I boarded a flight to Germany. Only now, I had circumnavigated the globe.
