4 months out

snow at night

Last night, I ran outside with little bits of ice and snow pelting my face. The icy flakes did not melt immediately on contact with my eyes, but stung before melting. Like being caught in a harmless sandstorm. I think about what I’m giving up and relish the cold, the ice accumulating on my fur-lined hoodie, and winter miles above the equator.

As I prepare to move to Jakarta, the whole thing feels like going away to college. I initially thought it was like planning your own “final departure” but I’ll be back in 2 years. So I’m going with the less dramatic college move, since I also have the option to be home for the summer and friends and family can visit.

I was at school the other day with my hair pulled back, and a colleague who knows about my upcoming move to Indonesia exclaimed, “Did you cut your hair?!! How many changes are you making in your life right now?”

She made me smile. “I actually sold my car and got a scooter. I went vegan.” As we both laughed, I thought about how this wasn’t that far from how drastically my life is going to flip.

Today I had my nieces over. We made waffles from scratch. I drove less than 5 miles to see my grandma. We talked about family. I helped her put her legs up. I drove home on uncluttered roads. These feel like luxuries now.

Mosquitos! Someone from Jakarta wrote to warn me about these pests. I would rather have a head cold, the stomach flu, pink eye . . . just about anything but have to deal constantly with them. Why am I going to Jakarta? Or will facing these unpleasantries and uncertainties in advance prepare me for what lies ahead?

I’m not sure, but as I slowly collect paperwork, scan and send it away–as I begin to make sure my car and condo are secured, and start to think about both in my new home in the Southern Hemisphere–I feel like I’m in a lazy canoe heading toward a waterfall.

Inertia was part of the reason I decided to get in the water. To avoid its lazy pull.


About jaclynfre

Tech integration specialist, recipe adventurer, fast walker, sporadic writer, aunt, sister and daughter
This entry was posted in family, life and culture, transitions and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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