Dear Panama,
It’s not you, it’s me.
I’m sure you hear this a lot, and it is true in my case. I
don’t want you to feel like you have failed me in any way, but not all love
affairs are meant to last, and for as wonderful as you have been to me, for the
last six months or so I’ve found myself feeling like something was missing, and
that’s not fair to either of us.
I’ve been hesitant to say this out loud because I envisioned
a lot of protestations and a lot of people (besides you) who wouldn’t
understand. I’ve realized, however, that if I want others to accept the
authentic me, I have to actually BE authentic with them and let them decide
what to do with the information from there. So here it is, in all its glory: I
head back to the States in two weeks for a wedding, I’m not coming back, and to
be honest I’m not sure where my next stop will be.
It will not be Washington. It will not be Panama. I’m
leaning somewhat toward Mexico, but the truth is that I feel much more comfortable
letting my future play itself out than I am in deciding before I’ve actually
made it anywhere that that will be where I stay. I was trying to figure out how
to explain this the other day, and decided the best analogy I can come up with
is to compare my living environments to romantic relationships: if I have to
find the next one before I get out of this one, I will likely stay too long in
a relationship that isn’t working or leap into a new one without knowing
whether it will be a good fit.
You have given me SO MUCH, Panama: wonderful friends, a
great community, any spiritual and healing resource I could have possibly
imagined, a casita with a large yard and an unfettered view of the stars and
the sunrise, and a place to rest with a whole season of daily rainbows. There
is no hatred or rancor in our parting, rather simply a recognition that what we
had that was so great has passed, and there are new horizons somewhere that are
begging for my attention.
Goodbye, Panama. And good luck. I know you’ll offer your
warm embrace to others, and I’m glad. Your gifts are too many to be hoarded by
just one person.
Love and eternally grateful kisses,
Morgan
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