The Hardest Goodbye...

No, it's not goodbye...its "see ya later" and I'm sure of it.  I am certain that one day I will find myself back in Nakhon Phanom, the town that has become my home.

The tears started flowing on Friday evening, and will only continue with increased frequency and intensity. I quite honestly cannot even begin to explain the heartbreak that I feel about leaving Nakhon Phanom.  Riding through town yesterday was glorious - taking in all the sights, sounds, smells, and reflecting about my time here. It's been one hell of a ride, that's for sure.

People keep asking about America and what I'm most excited for, and aside for seeing friends and family, its really not much.  There's a lot about America that right now absolutely terrifies me - the pace of life, the constant connection via phone/internet, not having a job, etc, etc, etc.  I really can't say that I'm excited to go back (dear readers, please don't take this personally). The sadness I feel about leaving far overwhelms any excitement or joy I have about returning to America (notice that I have not referred to America as "home" once in this post - for some reason that term doesn't feel quite right). Everyone keeps telling me I will be alright, but there's a feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me this will probably be one of the hardest things I've ever done. I have nothing waiting for me in America - the temptation to cancel my flights and stay in NKP is incredibly strong (don't worry Mom, I'm already in Udon, no turning back now - unless of course, the airport floods). 

The "see ya later's" I have experienced so far have been incredibly painful.  First came the old man who fills my bike tires each week, followed by my laundry lady.  Then came the staff in the office, which I literally had to run away from to hide my tears (any show of emotion causes loss of face), though a few people chased me out to say more goodbyes.  Then came Haley and her new puppy, Naga, bright and early this morning.  Haley has been my best friend and confidant the last few months, and has shown me the more "hip" side of Nakhon Phanom (and introduced me to more people to miss).  Weekly Skype dates are mandatory, Miss Boone. Next was my goodbye with Pornchai (who I'll probably always refer to as my Thai Dad), which was far too awkward and anti-climactic.  He drove me and Pi Nok to the bus station this morning, took my suitcase out of his car and said "ok bye bye," and he walked away while I was a blubbering idiot barely even able to get it together enough to give him a respectful wai and thank you. Dear Thailand, let's make hugs an appropriate gesture - it would have saved the whole thing. I proceeded to walk on the bus and weep until Pi Nok made me stop.

And most recently was the goodbye to Nakhon Phanom.  As the bus drove under the provincial archway, I said a little prayer of gratitude to this wonderful place and to wish the people and province well until I could see them again. It was a beautiful moment between me (again, crying) and the lush green rice fields as I drove away from my home.

Tomorrow I will say goodbye to Pi Nok at the airport, and she's begged me not to cry, but I already have tears streaming down my face at the thought of yet another goodbye.  She's been telling everyone that my parents want me back for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years, and then I can come back.  When my duffel bag was just about exploding, she told me to leave things in the closet for when I come back in a few months.  What a wonderful thought...

"You should not cry, because you are going to happiness.  If you were going to sadness, ok, you can cry.  But you are going back to love and happiness.  We cannot be sad for that." - Pi Nok