This was my first international flight - the first time that I was moving away from home for the long haul. When I saw the morning sun that day, the hills, the cloudy sky, the Kathmandu skyline that I am so familiar with, I wept. I thought of Baa, Aama and dai. I thought of my beautiful dogs who I miss so much (I have smiled at every dog I have passed by here and called them a sweetheart). As the day began, I felt rushed - weirdly, all my bags had been packed a while back. I just felt like I had a lot to do, lists of mental checklists to go through. The rush was real. But it didn't "hit" me at the airport like they said it would. It didn't hit me when I sat down for lunch that morning - a full plate of mam, dal and tarkari that Aama made for us. It didn't hit me when I sat with my dogs and held them close to whisper to them to be gentle and sit tight, nice and warm at home. It didn't hit me when family started coming in at home to see me off. At the airport,...
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