Saying goodbye is never a cruise

I said goodbye today. With sorrow in my heart the tears escaped to my cheeks being kissed by my adopted family and friends. With final hugs, arm holding, and promises to be reunited again I climbed into the car. With a final pat on Chance's head I told her she was in good hands and hoped she understood. Even now my heart is heavy, too heavy to hold in one hand and so my soul cradles it with two, pressing it against our chest willing it to go back to its place.

What to do when your heart says goodbye? Your brain tells you its fine, its illogical to cry, reunions come so swiftly when you are least expecting them, life continues within abscence, I will still sleep and dream of new places. Is it the fear that causes the tears? The fears of loss of neglect or is it the fear of new and of the unknown? It doesnt matter what the brain justifies and lectures, the heart continues pumping its sorrow, the lungs sigh in grief and the feet inch forward to continue the paths we choose.

Its been two months of medication and trial and error until finding out I would have to make the choice between continuous medication or a cold climate. I chose the cold climate; i chose to move and experience more new, more unknown, expose myself to more of the dark mental weakness we keep suckling in the corners of ourselves. I have lived since then knowing what was emminent but it was in those last days of packing, the last days of nostalgia, the last days of last walks, last meals, and last conversations when the heart wakes up and catches on to the foul plot afoot.

And now I am here in the capital, a room full of baggage, waiting with slight trepidation mixed with excitement and expectation to travel the last small leg of this trip to my town.

So goodbye Maevatanana. Goodbye family and friends and Chance, the closest sorrow in my heart. Goodbye heat, midnight trips to collect water, meat markets, and little ladies selling tomatoes. Goodbye mpivarotras with their small kados, fish ladies with fish still alive, flouncing off the reed mat clinging desperately to life. Goodbye students who didnt try, and those who exceeded their own expectations.

So closes the chapter of the last 8 months of my life and now moisten your finger and turn the page.. so begins the next.

Chapter of an unkown number: Antanifotsy: The home in the high plateau.