The cat is halfway out of the bag

It's not quite common knowledge that I'll be returning to Hawaii in December, but the secret is slowly revealing itself. Last week I made the decision final, notifying those who employed me that I'd be leaving in the name of higher education. With a proper degree I can obtain a proper job, and live abroad without the fear of being captured and deported.

What, I never told you? I'm so illegal.

The 11 year old discovered my departure date while I was in Venice, and in some strange way, it really solidified the beginning of the end. She told me not to tell her younger sister, which is news I could never break to a six-year-old anyway. I haven't had the backbone to openly announce this news to the girls I teach English to, and it's become obvious that I am blocking the metaphorical cat from getting out of the bag and strutting free. It's going to be difficult to leave, but I always knew that.

When hard times are ahead, I do what I do best, and that is to deny the things I'll have to face. I pretend there is the infinite version of time stretched out before me, and that the next time I say goodbye to the girls will not be one time closer to the last. Sometimes I manage to forget that when I leave, they'll mature without me. The next time we see each other, I'll be old, maybe married, and they'll have grown into their own personalities.

Regardless, watching other people grow up is not a good enough reason to stay. I'm still young, my own adventures await. The open window that led me to Italy is closing, but other opportunities linger. After all, I have not seen the last of the world. I will pursue the dreams I have at night and the fantasies I come up with in the day. I'll allow myself to be inspired and fearlessly follow the path that my heart desires. It's all I know how to do, and maybe all I'm good at.

But in order for me to move forward, I must first step away. And I'm working on it.