It turns out leaving isn’t something you ever get used to, no matter how many times you do it. There is always another cliff, another reason to jump. A part of me left two months ago. A part of me doesn’t believe I am about to trade my island life for winter in Europe. (Three years ago I swore I’d never live another winter again. I really did mean it.) A part of me won’t leave, it’s straight-up refusal. (How do you leave the place where you found yourself? What if I can’t be this person somewhere else? How will I wear real shoes again?) The part of me that believes in divine timing and fate and forever-after bought a suitcase yesterday. There is always more work to do than just packing it all up. I’m trying to come to terms with shedding more of myself. I will leave behind who I was when I arrived here. My twenties will end here. I have so much to do and I will do it all, but not today. Today I will just be here, all of me, staring at the sun for a bit longer. (at Kua Bay)