The end is starting to come into sight. We will be out of the apartment by the end of the month. We will be flying out April 4 or 7. Our place is in a complete state of deconstruction. Sometimes it makes me happy because it means we're really moving on, but it's also kind of sad leaving friends and family here. Sifting through all our things deciding what's a memory worth keeping and what's not making the cut. But this habit I developed in my late teens of moving far away every 3 or 4 years has taught me a few things. One is that my memories aren't really in the things that spark them. They are in me.

I don't know where my gypsy ways came from. I lived in the same house for the first 18 years of my life. No one else in my family moves around this much. When people hear where I have lived (NH, Colorado, Osaka, Hawaii, Kanazawa, Otsu, and now back to NH), they usually ask if I'm in the military. Obviously these are people who don't really know me.
So, I've been feeling a slight shade of aprehension these days, as one is wont to do when about to uproot and move the whole family across the globe just because it feels like time. Then I got an email from my mom in NH today and at the end of her very nice letter was this-- "I'M SO HAPPY THAT YOU'RE COMING BACK HOME."