I’m sitting here, it is about 23:00 and it is raining. I opened the door to my balcony and breathed in the humid summer air. Normally, I’m a ball full of cynicism and reality checks but for a moment I had that rare realization that I have a soft side- no horns were honking, no people yelling, no dogs barking. All I could hear was the rain making the all-too familiar noise of patter on cement. As I closed my eyes I was overcome with the realization that no matter where you are, rain at night smells the same. South Carolina, D.C., Kansas, Groningen, or Shanghai- and it made me homesick, but in a good way. With my eyes closed I was able to wander back to the childhood memories of damp fields and open night skies after a light rain. But I also knew that when I opened my eyes again I’d be standing there, on a balcony in Shanghai overlooking buildings upon buildings, watching the families inside conduct their nightly rituals. For the first time in a long time, my homesickness was replaced with a feeling of comfort. I know that my life is going to take me all around this little planet of ours from Africa to Asia, Europe to South America. I know that I will be spending many more nights like this, overlooking another foreign city and finding out, in my heart, that somehow I call it home. I call it home, just as I call Kansas my home, or my brother’s apartment, Grandy’s and Aunt Mary’s house, …they are all home.

And I know, sitting here, the feelings of nostalgia are wearing off, the sense of cynicism creeping back in and all I want is to slip on my shoes, go downstairs and outside to the moped or car or whatever mechanical device is emitting that screeching siren and smash it into little electronic bits with a baseball bat and stand over the hot pieces of metal as the siren lets off its last, subtle drone as it dies.

Gotta love Shanghai.