"things fall apart"

There is a book by that title, and while I have never read it (and therefore have limited knowledge of what it's about) I have often used that phrase as a mantra when life seems to, well, be falling apart. This past month I have murmured it under my breath more than once when things don't seem so be coming together in the way that I had initially hoped. But these past few days I find the opposite squeaking its way through my lips. "Things come together".
My father always told me as I grew up that 'life can change in an instant'. When I have described this to people in the past, they usually look at me sideways, and wonder about what he had meant. It was often not meant in a positive way, but more with the idea that you could slip and fall and become paralyzed, or any moment you might receive a phone call that a loved one has passed. And what he meant to impart upon me, and the lesson I took away, was to never take anything for granted. No matter how angry you are with a loved one, always end the argument with an "I love you". Take pleasure in the things you enjoy about life, and don't dwell on the negative. Because things could always be worse. You could be in a Turkish prison. And it works. I don't think there are many people out there who could say I don't appreciate the small things, or try at every juncture to remind the people I care about that I do, in fact care. Maybe it comes off as clingy, or naive. I just think it's consciousness.
But luckily that insight does often have positive repercussions. Sometimes it is the most simple things that lead to life-changing events. And that is where I find myself. While I might not be in the most optimal situation, I am on my way. A new city, 2 (possibly 3) new jobs, and a home on the horizon. Check back in 2 months and ask me. Ask me if those potlucks/birthdays/blah blah blahs I gave up all those months back in expectation of bigger things, ask me if it was worth it. I can guarantee the answer will be yes.

Things come together. Finally.

yes, I was in China

In about 5 days, I will have been home from the far east for two months.
While time will slowly and surely wash away the majority of my tactile memories of the life I led there, I am staving off the inevitable for as long as possible. Each day I take a few minutes and close my eyes to really remember where I was, and what I was doing. The feeling of each kid's hand in mine, their little voices, the plastic grass that got stuck in my shoes. The taste of the noodles, and pancakes, and flatbread, and milk tea. The smell of barbecue, roasted chestnuts, and stinky tofu. Stories told, songs sung, lips kissed, laughter shared. These will all be gone eventually, but I am grasping at each moment they flash themselves into my consciousness.
Perhaps the most difficult part of my return is that nobody can truly know what I have returned from. All that has happened on this side of my world is the passage of time. Its no news how static Tucson is, and it became glaringly obvious how much so upon my return. Things are exactly the same. Exactly. And while I have returned an entirely different person, with new knowledge and friends, and outlooks, people expect me to be a carbon copy of my former self. And that just isn't the case. Nobody wants to hear my stories, or see my pictures, they just want me to get caught up on who fucked who and why that is important. And thats ok, because my experiences are better left that way. Untouched by the judgmental and cynical eyes that fill this town. Its just a sad truth that the people that know me best, and knew me at my best, are a world away.
I had never been happier than I was there. And to come back to such stark loneliness, although expected, is still a lot to handle.
Things will get better with time, I'm sure. But for now my heart is low and my soul is cold.