'Twas the Night Before Texas

'Twas the night before Texas,

And all through the hotel,

Not a creature was stirring,

Not even a... forget it. Nothing rhymes with hotel.

It has been 4.5 years since we moved to Japan.  I remember nervously putting our "babies" on a plane and heading to Japan, not having any idea what may lie ahead. 

Tomorrow evening Matt and I will put our youngest two children on a plane and embark back to the United States on a new adventure to Dallas, Texas. Our oldest daughter will follow at the end of June.

I have to admit, I am in serious denial about this move. In some ways it is surreal. Maybe it is because I have so many people tell me how difficult repatriating is supposed to be and I don't want to deal with it.  Maybe it is because I am leaving my first-born child behind for three months, when we have never been apart for more than a week. Or maybe it is because I have fallen so much in love with Japan, the culture, and the friendships I have built, that the idea of leaving is hard to think about. But the reality is, in less than 24 hours I will be in the air over the Pacific Ocean, hopefully sleeping with the help of a few bottles glasses of wine. 

Our goal when coming to Japan was to embrace the culture and gain as much as we could from this experience. I think we have not only achieved, but surpassed that goal. We climbed Mt Fuji with our older two kids and 16 other Caterpillar ISEs. We have been skiing, camping, white water rafting and road tripping throughout Japan. We have learned to embrace onsens and eat raw fish. We have experienced some of the world’s most beautiful beaches, ziplined through jungles, ridden on elephants, visited seaweed farms, hiked thorough Vietnam, crawled through the same tunnels as soldiers in the Vietnam War, snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef and saw cows walking down the streets of some of the poorest areas of Asia.  My family has been blessed over and over during our time here. 

There are some things I never thought I would experience, like the 2011 earthquake and getting stitches in a rural Vietnam clinic by someone who was probably the village vet.  I went on two disaster relief trips to Tohoku shortly after the earthquake and the experiences I had during my time up North will be ones that stay with me forever. I am already thinking about ways to get involved in missions and service trips in parts of South America. 

I will take away many lessons from my 4.5 years here. The Japanese language is hard. I will never be fluent, or even close.  Japanese beer is way stronger than US beer. Everything here is a process, and if you think it should take an hour you better double that. Forget clothing style, anything goes, especially Little Bo Beep wear. Most people do not speak English, yet they will go out of their way to help you. Taking the train everywhere is way easier than driving, Japanese people can find a reason to smile in the midst of the worst tragedy. And people leaving is a hard reality of expat life and unfortunately it is now our time go. 

Most importantly, I have learned that when you pack up your three children and move to the other side of the world where you know no one, cannot speak the language and drive on the opposite side of the road, the people around you become your family. And boy are we going to miss our amazing family here in Kobe. 

In Japanese, the word for goodbye is sayonara. I do not believe in goodbyes, so as we board the plane tomorrow, heading to what I hope to be another amazing adventure, I will bid this beautiful country and all my friends ja mata, or as we say in English "see you later". Because anything else, I hope, is false. 

"Expiration Dates"

A few entries ago I made mention to expats having "expiration dates". While some expats are on an open-ended assignment or living permanently overseas, most of us are on assignment for a given length of time and when that time expires you repatriate back home or move on to your next adventure.

School is out in 4 weeks. But when you are an expat the end of school doesn't just mean the start of summer break, vacations and getting ready for the next year of school. It also means saying goodbye.

Shortly after we moved here several people left and there others at the end of the school year. Maybe it was because we were new and I was in a perpetually confused state, but people leaving didn't really affect me much. This year it isn't quite the case. Over the past 15 months we have built friendships and memories with people. When you are in an international community like this, people become like family.  And now some of those friends and family are leaving.

Since graduating college 12 years ago, we have moved four times. In all those years I have never had a friend move away from me, rather I was always the one moving. In fact, I have really only had one friend that I can remember move and I was maybe 8. I have always been the one doing the abandoning, never the abandoned. And know what?  I way prefer to be the one moving. (And no my darling husband, that does not mean I am ready to move anytime soon)

My neighbor, Lottie, is one of those leaving. She has become a very dear friend to me. Our kids play together almost everyday. Our families went on vacation to Vietnam together. She and I went away to Okinawa for some girltime. She has taught me how to cook some fantastic meals and is always helping me decorate and rearrange my house. I know if I am never in need of anything, she is one I can call. Today we spent part of the afternoon moving her plants to their new "home" since she is not able to move them with her. (I guess you could say our house kind of looks like a jungle now.) It feels sort of like dejavu, except this time I am on the receiving line.

 Lottie isn't the only one leaving. Other friends are on to their next move, the kids have several friends from school leaving, and Matt has several co-workers leaving as well. The next few weeks are filled with sayonara (goodbye in Japanese) parties, lunches, last minute outings and many tears.

When people move within their own country, I think it is easy to say "we will get together" or "I will visit".  Does it always work out? No, but the idea and possibility is always there. It just struck me a few days ago, some of the people here I will never see again, unless there is some divine intervention that brings us to the same place sometime. Sure, with things like email, Skype and Facebook staying in contact will be easier, but saying you will visit people in New Zealand, Europe and even India isn't quite as believable as saying you will visit someone in California or Arizona.

So to all those who got our cleaning supplies, alcohol, plants and are babysitting my books, to all those who have helped me post-it-note our stuff, paint our house, clean the empty rooms, and have watched the moving truck pull away ––  I apologize from my bottom of my heart. This moving stuff really sucks.