There are only four days until I fly to Phuket.
My excitement is restrained but growing. This leaving is temporary and short; my return ticket is booked and unchangeable. My bank account is groaning, hungry. But this is a holiday I can’t afford not to have.
It feels like I am returning home.
I have held my breath since I left 16 months ago to dive deep into the darkness of everything that has needed to be held and soothed and loved. That breath is ready to escape. I am ready to let it go. When I stand on the golden cream shore of Naiharn Beach I will release it to the distant horizon where it will mingle and fade with the setting sun. When I immerse my body in the warm buoyant waters of the Andaman Sea, I will release the tension of landlocked life to be dispersed amidst a billion million molecules of instant nurture.
I will be home.
Endings and beginnings.
I used to roll my eyes upward when I spoke of this hedonistic, tourist-haven of an island. It was meant to be the first stop on my adventures, a stepping-stone into Asia and beyond. Instead it has become somewhere I have returned to many times. Irony chuckles; it has become my spiritual home.
Giant marshmallow clouds.
Tangerine, gold and pink ribbon sunsets.
This is everything I need.
And everything that’s waiting to greet me.