The Found Year

It’s been raining forever. I’ve been sick for a month. I miss my puppy snuggles nearly every second. Tomorrow is Christmas, which means today is Christmas Eve. My father died on Christmas Eve 25 years ago, so maybe this melancholy shouldn’t be a surprise, but man I sure do wish I was having unadulterated fun again!

I’m on the other side of the world where there are new experiences and new people on every corner, but I just can’t get my spirits up for the last week or two.

I’m tired. Tired of getting up to try something new every day. Tired of needing to bring my own toilet paper to the bathroom. Tired of seeing so many lost dogs with collars too tight and ribs too visible. I can’t save one let alone all of them.

I’m scared because I STILL don’t know what to do with my life when I get back to it, and I’m forever inching closer to a sense of urgency on that matter.

What’s the point of picking up and doing something fantastic for twelve months if you have nothing to show for it in the life you return to create? Let’s put a pin in that one for now.

Ugh. I miss my dogs and my SleepNumber bed and clean bathrooms and my Mom and my whole crazy family. I miss $5 lattes and reasonable traffic and bicycle helmets.

I know that if I said I wanted to be home tomorrow, we could be home tomorrow. Trent would make it happen.

But I also know that growth lives at the edge, whether I’m talking about yoga or life.

So tomorrow we fly to the south to the Mekong River Delta and maybe the sun will shine again and maybe I’ll let it in to brighten my soul and show me something I need to see. Yes, I think so.

The raw Pacific Ocean, Hoi An, Vietnam