One year ago yesterday was the day that I left for Bangkok. I've been thinking about this a great deal this week. The changes in my life that have occurred since then seem so unbelievable. It was both a long and a short year, if that's even possible. My mind has been flooded with memories so sharp that I feel as if they were only yesterday. Certain moments have remained so clear in my mind, whilst other things, even those which may be far more important, slip my mind. When I compare my life as it is now to how it was one year ago, or even in the year that led up to that point, I can't help but concede that maybe my life actually is more interesting than I always considered it to be.
About a month ago I bumped into a friend I hadn't seen in years. I had recently returned from Brazil and told him this when he asked me what was new. "Look at you," he said, "little Morrisa Higer doing all this big cool things. Your life is so amazing." "What are you talking about?" I retorted. He replied, "I look at your Facebook. You've gone to Thailand, Brazil, all these places and you're always doing something interesting. You're a teacher, you make a difference, I'm just so impressed."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I never thought my life was all that special. In fact, I usually consider myself a disappointment. There are a million people I can think of who are more interesting, talented, intelligent and have traveled to more places, seen more things, done more, contributed more and experienced things in life that I have only ever dreamt about.
I remember every detail of the morning I left for Bangkok in surprising detail. I spent the night before watching the Tudors with the girl who was at that point my best friend. We were obsessed with that show. There were only a few episodes left in the series at that point and we knew we would not be able to watch them together as we had done every week for the past few months. We drank wine and talked about myriad subjects, including her deepest darkest secrets about her family life, the details of which made me cry and not want to leave her. She was always the strong one and listening to her in a moment of weakness made me feel irresponsible for leaving her and not being there to protect her for the next year. She left shortly after midnight and we hugged before she walked out my door. We were close, but we never embraced. It was strange and left a pit in the bottom of my stomach. I knew that I wouldn't sleep, but that it did not matter because I would have to wake at 5 a.m. the next morning to head for the airport. I trudged slowly up the familiar green carpeting of my stairs, past my parents bedroom and down the hall to my own. It looked strangely empty as I passed my packed suitcases and got into my bed for the last time in what I thought would be a year.
Five a.m. came very quickly and I woke up, put on a black, sleeveless, floor-length cotton dress, a lightweight black cardigan. I completed the outfit with a gaudy koi fish necklace. Before closing my door I looked at it fondly then walked out with an excitement coursing through my veins I had never felt before. I was doing something big. Not big, huge. For a year I'd be living on the opposite side of the planet in an entirely different country doing something unlike anything I had ever done before. Despite the pleading from my friends not to go, I was going. They were afraid I would be robbed or killed or even sold into the illegal sex trade industry since I'm not much bigger than a child anyways.
Even though their fears were irrational and made me quite nervous, to be honest, I felt touched by their concern. After all, at that point in time I was a frail little girl. My weight had been steadily dropping over the last year and I weighed a measly 107 pounds. Fragile bones peaked out from my skin, mostly in my chest, back and hips. A strong discontent with my job, mixed with continuous heartbreak had induced a loss of appetite starting and remaining off and on over the last year or so. I, however, was unaware that my appearance had become somewhat ghastly and caused a great deal of people around me to be nervous. The loss of weight manifested itself as a source of joy at a point in my life when I was unhappy with nearly everything in it.
My father pulled the car up to the Quantas airline door of Logan Airport and my mother, my father and I all got out of the car. They came inside with me to help with my two large suitcases packed with much more clothing than I really needed and stood in line with me as I waited to present my one-way ticket to the woman behind the desk. After this process was complete, my parents walked me to the security check-in. I was a little bit early and we stopped and stood by one of the few food stalls that were open at that early hour. I had no appetite, but bought a bottle of water. I drank half of it before handing it over to my father, knowing that I would not be able to bring it through security anyhow. I removed my white Northface fleece jacket, which I knew I definitely would not need in Thailand, but wore to the airport because it was particularly chilly for a May morning, and handed it to my mother. "Can I wear it while you're gone?" she asked sadly. "Of course," I said, feeling a tinge of sadness thinking of my mother in my jacket all the way in Boston, while I would be in Southeast Asia. I hugged my parents goodbye and walked towards security. They remained standing in that same spot and watched until I placed my heavy suitcase on the conveyor belt, removed my laptop, shoes and jewelry, then walked through the metal detector. I turned back one last time to wave goodbye, then picked up my belongings on the other side and headed towards the gate.
After meandering through the hallways of the airport I finally found the gate where I would be boarding my plane. There was a small Borders bookstore by the gate. Inside I bought a packet of three black Moleskin notebooks and a copy of Eat, Pray, Love. I had heard it was a good book, and seemed like a fitting choice, seeing as I was about to set off on my own journey. When I brought my selections to the cashier she asked me if I was a Borders member. I told her was not and when she asked if I was interested in becoming one I told her that I'd be living out of the country for a year and that it was pointless. There was a sense of pride in my voice when I said this and I could feel my heart pounding with the excitement for the changes that were imminent in my life. For the first time ever I felt like was really doing something. I sat down, opened the package of notebooks and began to write. Eventually, the plane began to board and after getting settled in my seat, calling my mother one last time and shutting off the phone I knew I would not be able to use for a long time, I continued to write.
This is what I wrote:
My journey begins. I've checked my two oversized suitcases, managed to lift my heavy carry-on into the over-head compartment and have now settled into my seat. There are very few people on the plane to London. It doesn't sound like many are making the extended journey to Bangkok that I am. I've send the last text message I will send for a year on my American phone It was to my mother and it said "I'm on the plane now. It seems comfy. Love you." I hope that she will be alright. I miss her so much already.
I also miss Charlotte already. Last night she poured her soul out to me and I felt so sad about all the things that had happened to her that I'd never known before. I cried, but she is fine with it now. She is so strong. I hope that I can have some of her strength over the next year, as I'm certain I will find times when I need it.
This feeling is so surreal. As I look out the window, I can see Boston and the signs for the highway I've driven on a thousand times and can't believe I won't see any of this until February. I will miss Boston, even if I always complained about it.
I will miss my family and friends and city, but I still longingly await my arrival in Thailand.
Shortly after the plane took off I put away my notebook and pen and began to chat with an American man going to London on business. I explained that I was not going to London, but catching a connecting flight to Bangkok. After explaining that I had chosen to move their for a year to teach English as a Second Language, he was thoroughly impressed. He lauded my bravery and I felt like a million bucks. As the plane gained elevation I watched my beloved city of Boston shrink away reverently. I sunk into my seat, selected a movie to watch and waited patiently for the plane to reach London.
*To be continued*
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