It’s all ending; it’s all beginning.

On the night I left for Nicaragua, a year and a week ago exactly, I took a moment on the drive to the airport to take my hands off the wheel (the road was clear and it was just a moment) as an acknowledgment to the gods of Travel and Chance (who are cousins) that I was not in control of the world, then I took the wheel to start piloting my way as best I could.

This time I have no illusions; I am not remotely in control. The foundation of my life as I know it, the incarnation that began four years ago when I became more the person I am today, has crumbled out from beneath me.

I’ve made mistakes I never thought I would make, and I don’t yet understand how. Four years ago I changed who I was, and I thought that meant I knew myself. Turns out I was wrong, I’m not yet there. I’ve had blessing beyond belief in this life; love and friendship to make the angels cry, but there is something missing, something in me that I’ve lost sight of.

I don’t know exactly how to find it, but my path starts now. I am sitting in a corner cafe in the airport in Istanbul, where I just ate a decent but generic and impressively overpriced veggie and cheese sandwich. Not exactly Turkish cuisine. With it I had an orange juice, which was a very small glass, but so fresh-squeezed right behind me that I had to chew it. They charged me more for the orange juice (whose price is not obviously listed) than they did for the sandwich (which is), and looked like kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar when I mentioned it.

I guess that’s the lesson: it’s easy to be good when everyone is watching, but it’s what you do when you can get away with it that counts.

K gets here on the next flight, T minus three hours and counting, and leaves on Sunday, D minus 3.5 days and counting.

So the next few days will be an Eden of company, then a Hell of farewell.

And after that?

I have no idea.