And for a moment between the taxi and flight, I have a minute. Jack Johnson plays in the background at the airport cafe, while the voices at the tables next to me vacillate in nasal Brazilian Portuguese. Yet somehow, this netherworld is a strange sort of home to me. I guess I have always been here. Somewhere stuck in-between, touching a number of cultures and people. Thick nostalgia runs over me, but I am not sure what for. Maybe it's just the note of longing somewhere in Johnson's resigned voice.
In Brazil, they don't say I miss you. They say saudade. Though it doesn't translate exactly, Saudade is the feeling of loss that falls over you when something you desire is gone.
For me, it's leaving the home, never to really return. It's being strong when I don't want to. It's leaving someone you wish you could always touch...because you must. Love? Saudade.
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