It’s days like today that make me miss home the most. The sky is an ominous gray, rain drips down the window mirroring the tears I deftly try to wipe away before anyone notices. Even the music I have plugged into my ear buds, music that should make me happy, excited, and alive, only ushers my thoughts to a warm car, artificially heated, flying down a highway with the sound turned up high and a friend in the passenger seat. Something completely unavailable here in Cambodia.
Last night I had a dream that had all the makings of a horror film. I wouldn’t call it a nightmare, because as soon as I woke up I began to analyze all that I could possibly remember, what could each sequence mean, trying to remember every detail. I wanted to delve back into that state of sleep to keep going. Set between a blend of Cambodia from the hurried tuk tuk rides away from whoever was trying to slaughter me, my sister, and my mom to scenes in Washington complete with Evergreen trees and a roaring ocean on the front of our door step which in my subconsciousness, was literally a cabin in the woods.
Living in Cambodia has taught me many things, but the one that has been looming most recently is that you can’t truly ever plan for more than the day you’re living.
Sure, you can schedule lunches and meetings and cocktails with clients and friends, even sometime those fall through- but in the large scheme, more “life” planning type decisions, they’re things that you can grasp at but not know if they’re actually in your hand or if they’ve floated away somewhere unknown.
The usual: food, cats, and a storm of selfies.