Susan LaffertySeveral years ago we attend a conference at the beach. In Thailand. One morning I’m out for a walk as the sun rises.
I stop and gaze at the ocean. The waves roll gently. In and out. Steady.
I’m in the middle of fog and forgetfulness. A strange season of life. Change. Reminders that I’m aging.
Inside and out, I don’t feel like myself.
Hot sun, blue sky. The ocean waves were high and constant at Kuta Beach in Bali that summer of my sophomore year in college.
It was a familiar place. Site of many family vacations. But no longer the empty beach of my childhood.
Tourists flocked there from all over the world. And hotels lined the ocean.
The journals come in all sizes. Most have survived extremes. Dust and drought. Mold and humidity. It shows.
They hold my life records. The common, daily occurrences of a cross-cultural life. The ongoing spiritual battle.
And the struggles of our children in the midst of it all.
Constant illnesses. Anxieties. Hurt. Fears.
In dust and drought. Mold and humidity.
