Burma's Calling

In three months from today, on July 29th, I'll be flying out of O'Hare yet again, heading back to Asia and my new home in Yangon, Burma.

It seems like I was just counting down to come back to the States. Not months or even weeks ago. Yesterday. The feeling is like someone's breath on my neck that then sends nervous and excited chills through every nerve, making the endings jump and twitch in anticipation. It is there in such utter completeness, showing total disregard for of all of the life I've lived since then; the love I've shared, and lost.

Anytime I've left and arrived, I've picked up where I left off or started anew, leaving the last life to seem to be a dream. And so my life continues to be as such, the ebb and flow of lives finding a middle ground where there is continuous motion, but so fast and slow all at once that I'm left floating.

To be starting another one so soon, to be making lists of times to share with people and life to experience, seems completely surreal. But I will. Moments and memories are already booked and planned, knowing that if I don't, I'll leave rushing laughs and not hugging long enough to feel embraces long after I'm gone.

Yet I plan knowing full well that it will be all of those moments in between that I'll live and love for and, as always, not want to let go of.