I was going to write
more. I had good intentions, but I suppose living got in the way of writing. I
thought I’d write about the time when I watched a truck being creatively pulled
from a ditch, and the dozen men gesturing wildly, each positive that he was
directing the proceedings. I thought maybe I’d write about the one room
schoolhouse and the dusty children I met there, because they are not people
I’ll quickly forget. I thought perhaps I’d write about my English students or
even the unlucky lizard I ran over with my scooter.
Maybe I can still write these
things, but it will be from a new home. Tomorrow, I leave Vientiane to move
back to the States, and my feelings could not possibly be more mixed. I am
excited for what comes next, but I know how I behave when I leave a place I’ve
grown to love. For a while, my days will consist of living partially in the
present and partially in the Indochina Time zone, having thoughts such as,
“Joma Café is opening in 20 minutes. I could really go for one of their mango
shakes.” Or possibly, “My students just finished evening classes. I hope
they’re not asking their new teacher to go to the bathroom too often to get out
of class, because they really need to stop doing that.”
So if I see you in the near
future and I don’t seem quite with it, it’s probably because I’m not. I suppose
I could blame it on the jetlag, but I know that won’t be entirely true. Trying
to live in one hemisphere while picturing a day in the other is exhausting
work, but I’m not going to say no to a few extra naps here and there, just in
case.
