I'm not Ready...

I'm not ready to let go. It's May and the end is coming quickly. Today I felt like suddenly I was in fast forward and wanted to get off and just soak up the time, but I couldn't because the end is coming and nothing can slow that down.  Today we went to the water station to refill our water bottles for likely the last time. I wanted to tell the girl who fills our water that we would be leaving in a few weeks and this was probably the last time we'd need to fill our water jugs.. but the thought of it made me choke on the emotion swelling in my throat.  I looked around at our little neighborhood as we waited for our water to be filled and really- just by looking at it, it's nothing special. Just a bunch of dogs, jeepneys, and locals doing their own thing. Women are cooking their "barbeques" men are spitting "momma," (kinda like chewing tobacco), kids are buying snacks, the local handicapped man is sitting on the corner eating a sandwich, the local jeepney coordinator is counting out the days money, and people are catching a jeepney to town. It's quiet yet noisy with the usual sounds of the neighborhood. But to me this has become home. I don't know anyone by name, just by face. I don't really belong here, the only white woman in the whole neighborhood. I'm not meant to be here forever. Yet, the thought of leaving this and all that I've come to love about Baguio overwhelms me tonight. I'm not ready to let go.

- Meghan