On The Eve Of The End…Again

Suitcase“I love you so so so so much, Daddy,” he said with a mouthful of cinnamon roll. “I’m miss you.”

Which means, I think, that he will miss me. So I hug him a little longer and reassure him eyeball to eyeball that I love him and I’m coming back. And there were a few tears on the eve of the end.

I’ve been here before, saying goodbyes, packing my magic green powder and
my dad’s boots. And bracing for the end.

It always comes. These trips are always the end of something.

Apathy.

Certainty.

Perspective.

Comfort.

A dream house.

A career path.

My trip next week with Angie, Jennifer, Layla and Kevin will be my thirteenth to the developing world. I’m bracing for the end again.

My suitcase sits by the door. I’m waiting for Becky to get home so we can have a last lunch date together before I head to Texas for a few days and then leave from there for Lima. We’ll hold each other a little longer than usual and then say goodbye. To each other for ten days and to life as I know it forever.

Here comes the end of something. What will it be this time?

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