Looking back on my experience I have mixed emotions
Did I come in open minded enough?
Did I relax my guard and live in the moment?
Was I as carefree as I could be?
But then I stop and look back
I close my eyes, open my ears and listen to my heart
I watch myself put those babies to sleep
I watch myself get on the back of a motorcycle, the wind stroking my curls
I hear Katie’s voice for the first time and see Cathy’s moves
I feel the unleveled gravel beneath my feet
I see the dogs searching for shade
I taste sticky rice and fried pork
I relive the moment, hearing the heavy breathing from the intensive walks,
Feeling my right hand cramp up from gripping the pen so tightly, making my marks on the page
And then I look forward and I see new.

Reflecting is something that I did all throughout this experience. I took notes, wrote poems and took pictures to capture my feelings at that moment. This poem describes some anxieties that I feel everyone has when they return from such an amazing high. Did I do enough, or was I in my own way? But to tackle that question I realized is foolery. I did what I felt I needed to do, I saw what my eyes allowed, I heard what my ears could take and I touched what my hands could feel, I did what I needed to do. It would be unjust to say that more couldn’t have been done. Longer walks, less time in my comfort zone, more exploring, less sightseeing all could be altered but yield different experiences. To say I should have done more would be to say I should have changed my experience; my anger and happiness, my un-comfortableness and my moments of content, but why would I want to do that? My experience is just that, my experience and to question that would be to question my growth. As a Christian, as a Black woman, as a Plus size woman, as a sister, as a daughter, as a girlfriend, as a friend and as a person I have changed and I can’t change that. Looking back is positive and helpful. I feel as though it’s needed so I can remember where I was, but that’s only so I can measure how far I go.
Thanks for listening.