Hellobee

I recently realized that reading, whether novels or blogs or non-fiction, has immense power for me. Most simply, it’s the power to feel united and to expose the constant truth that we are not alone. This Christmas, I asked for a few kindle books as gifts and one of them I received was “At Home in the World: Reflections on Belonging While Wandering the Globe” by Tsh Oxenrider, one of my favourite bloggers. I wasn’t sure if I would relate to it since we’ve always taken a pick a place and root down approach to traveling and seeing the world in short snippets is more exhausting for me than appealing. What I didn’t realize was that it meant that her book was essentially a book about transitions and goodbyes – very relevant to my life right now. 

She explains her daughter’s thought process:

“Can I pick out a painting for my room?” Along with her scrolls from Xi’an, she’s also collected a batik print from Kenya. I go ahead and nod, bending our souvenir rule. “Wherever my room will be, “ Tate explains, “I want it to look like this year.”

I felt so connected to that last sentence that I was suddenly crying, overwhelmed with truth. I laid on a cloth mat in a sweet village in the mountains east of Chiang Mai and let myself sob, let myself actually feel the loss of leaving Thailand. I let those words run through my head like a meditation I could feel, wherever my rooms will be, I want it to look like this phase of life, wherever my space will be, I want it to include this part of me. What is so striking to me is that both sides of the sentence ring so strongly in my heart. I don’t know where my home will be! But wherever it is and in whatever form it is, I want it to represent the part of me that has come to love this place so much. I want to take physical pieces of it home – to wherever home will be – because I don’t know when we’ll be back and I know I can’t fully take along the smells and sights and pace of life.

Up until now, I’ve been trying to enjoy the moment which is also important. But I have also been able to avoid thinking about departure as final and holding our flight date lightly, thinking we’ll probably be back. Though we might return in the Fall, we might also decide that we’re ready to open a new chapter. By selling everything here and allowing our future selves to choose whether or not to return for another year, we are letting go of Thailand and I think I need to make space to mourn this place and time. Especially with three weeks left.

We certainly have been packing it in. Being here now in a village we have loved and returned to over the last three years seeing familiar faces and capturing their stories through my films is a great way to say goodbye and still be very present. And this moment is so quintessentially Thai. There is a loud karaoke bar that has opened across from the house where we’re staying. I think it was a mechanic garage in the daytime but it is definitely a karaoke place now and someone is singing to Thai pop songs outside our window while our host dad watches Thai soap operas in the other room. The daytime is ruled by the sounds of animals – the evening is ruled by the sounds of pop culture that is not my own. It’s not exactly desirable but it feels normal.

Back in Chiang Mai as of yesterday, I’m now spending a few precious hours visiting some of my favourite places in town. This morning I met up at the farmers market with a good friend and her daughter who are also leaving town for a while and again – from the mouths of babes, “I feel happy and sad at the same time,” says five-year-old Maya as soon as she sees me. It’s so simple but I barely hold back tears and we enjoyed a picnic on the lawn and talk about transition. I decided from our talks that even though I feel a bit lost, I just need to take care of the steps that follow naturally as we prepare to leave Thailand and greet America again but most importantly, we need to find a way to find rootedness in ourselves and peace with the unknowns. I think that’s the hardest part about transition. In our family, we do believe there is a master plan (or planner) guiding our reality but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to let go of trying to control all of the pieces! 

I’m wrapping up these thoughts from a gallery and cafe now that I first discovered almost ten years ago when I studied abroad here and although it’s gotten much busier (as has Chiang Mai), it still has its original charm. Hopefully we can hold the same thing to be true about ourselves as we return to the US with a toddler and a new baby in utero! So much has changed but the root of who we are is still here. We don’t know where we’ll stay beyond crashing with family for a few weeks, and we don’t know where we’ll find parking for our RV in Michigan for the summer. But wherever it is, it will have the Gumdrops nestled inside and we will do normal life, whatever our new normal looks like, near family for the first time in three years. That’s exciting.

Oh and I chopped my hair in honor of transition.