It is profoundly unbelievable to me that my next post will come from Florence, Italy.
I look at that sentence and the words just start to lose their meaning. It is as if it is a story I am reading about someone else instead of a sentence happening to me.
Inconceivable!
“I do not think that word means what you think it means.”
Oh, but it does. I can’t wrap my mind around the idea that I’ll be living abroad in 4 days… until faced with the realities of saying goodbye.
It is coming in waves. They break faster now as my time gets shorter.
I had to hug my brothers for the last time before departure the weekend and one hit me broadside. Dan said, “you’re still not good at goodbyes…” Nope. I get chocked up just thinking about the moment. No. I’m still not good at goodbyes. My brain absolutely short circuits when I think about kissing Little Miss for the last time.
Bidding farewell to those that we love shouldn’t be easy should it?
Saying sinara to stuff is one thing. To let go of people and face the reality of being a half a world away from them — that is something else entirely.
Where did I get so many pens? And hangers? And scraps of paper? And bottles of lotion? And shoes?
