Leaving Kansas

I'm having trouble pinning down any feelings or even thoughts on leaving Kansas. I can barely remember what it felt like to leave Kentucky, and I haven't had any time to process the experience; two years is, after all, a time-span representing the blink of an eye.

I suppose it represents my simultaneously looking backward and forward in time, trying to synthesize the two into some sort of understandable amalgam. It's just not working. What did leaving Kentucky feel like? What will going to Mongolia feel like? Will I even notice it after the first few months? We hear constantly, Emily and I, that the time we spend in Mongolia will pass so quickly that we won't even notice it until it's over. I tend to think that we'll notice it for at least the first few months (especially since we have to be apart for training), but that once we get settled in, the prediction I just mentioned will play out. Eventually, we'll be looking at the last few months, and time will return.

I wonder whether that's analogous to life in a general sense. Once you get settled in and new memories start to resemble old ones more and more, time starts to speed up and things tend to stick less. Or is it the opposite? Or, like most things in life, a mishmash of dozens of possible explanations?

I treasure the time I've spent in Kansas, I truly do. I've learned more about myself and come farther as a person than I thought possible. Of course, that raises more questions about the time I'll spend in Mongolia, and the person I'll be when I get back. Better, I think. I hope.

Anyway, I do treasure the time here, the friendships I've made. Part of the reason I'm confused about how to feel is that I've learned through experience that some friendships are made to last, and time and distance don't change that, not really. Friendship is a choice, after all, and I choose to maintain it. It's true that this will never be the same, and this is the end of a part of my life that I've enjoyed immensely. But in essence, nothing is ever the same. Just similar.

When I was younger, I would occasionally get mad at my mom or dad or brother or sister. At some point in the coming-down process, my mom would almost invariably say, "Well, we're your family. You're stuck with us." Something like that. For a long time, I believed that was true, but not anymore. I've known enough people with shitty families or shitty partners to believe that there is such a thing as unconditional love. There's only love, only the choice.

I'll miss you all.  But only for a while.