It's hard for me to judge how well I've adapted to being back here, in Adelaide, because sometimes it feels like I never left. Like those four years didn't happen. I didn't teach those students. I didn't live within another culture. I haven't seen another life. I've forgotten most I ever knew of Pitjantjatjara. I talk about it sometimes and... it's disconnected, like I'm talking about someone else's experiences. But I've always been a bit like that, when it comes to reality. Unless I am there in that moment it never feels like it happened to me.
I've never been good at keeping in touch with people anyway, and the people I'd really care to (M, the Anangu Coordinator of the school, and N, P and, S people I was close to) are self-conscious about writing, or just as bad as I am at the whole 'keep up correspondance' thing.
And it hurts, somehow, worse than if it had been impossible to adjust. There's a real sense of guilt, there. It should have been harder. I should miss being on the APY lands more than I do. It feels like a disservice that I don't.