Staying

I shouldn’t still be here in Indonesia. It’s been eight years on the same narrow street on the same tiny island. And I just can’t

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Dinner Time in Borneo

It’s dinner time. The setting equatorial sun—every day the same time all year long—and my three kids tell me it’s time. And if the “I’m

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Identity Crisis

It all took some sorting out. My Indonesian friend kept going on and on about some mutual friend of ours who is sick. I kept

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Bearing Fruit

When I was getting ready to move to Indonesia, I was willing to give up pizza, my mom’s dirt cake and one-stop trips to Wal-Mart.

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Wearing Kids

The woman bounced down the path, her arms pumping strong on her afternoon jog. She looked so fit. So light. So free. I did my

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Giving My Thanks Away

The corner store is smelly, and crowded with others like me—coming for something quick and small. Some vegetables to make dinner maybe. Gas for the

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