I am on my “last train” yet again. It seems that I chug along at every beginning and every end. I can’t find the threads that are supposed to seal and separate experiences. There were no goodbyes. The local singing group gave me a party. There were some fond recognitions and a few see-ya-laters, and then I left, but it was all posturing. They know I will be back, and so do I. I have to go back at least twice before I can actually leave, and honestly, I do not feel like I will actually leave until I leave eastern europe altogether. Who knows when that might be? With Turkey, Georgia, and now the middle east simmering in my future I might not make it back to the states any time soon, and until I do, these folks are my family. Guess that’s what I get for being a tree in the wind… every slight breeze catches me.
I am jealous of the volunteers that suffered a finality, the ones that actually ended their peace corps service, their time in eastern europe, and their vagabond lives. They cleaned their houses, got on a bus or train, watched the Bulgarian landscape roll by, and were able to say goodbye. At least that is how I imagine it was for them. It is never that easy. It is never a clean break. But I need to believe there is.