There is a time to dance, and there is a time to mourn.
Although I look forward to these things upon returning to the States in June, it has been an ever-present burden to think about leaving Bolivia. I can relax in my apartment with my "family" there. I can fill my tummy with delicacies that--though likely to make me sick--are still tasty. I can find the small inconveniences like not being able to flush the toilet paper, faulty electrical outlets, and relying on other transportation endearing rather than frustrating. It is a time to mourn what will be not the total loss of those things, but the loss of the daily experience of them. I am trying my best to prepare myself for the time of grief that is yet to come in the next six months, though I'm not sure how to best do that. Regardless, I believe it will be an incredible lesson in aspirations I've always hoped to achieve: Live each day like it's your last. Carpe diem. "Arise and seize the day" (to quote one of my favorite films). I'm hoping that this time to mourn also, somehow, will be a time to dance.
