I leave Hanoi again tomorrow. I have left it three times now, or I will have left it three times by 12pm tomorrow (the future perfect tense). For now, I sit here, eating raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake, staring out at the lake. The same lake I used to cycle by when I was homesick. I’d visualize the distance between myself & the ones I love. Wondering how many lakes kept us apart.

I now know that distance doesn’t matter. And home isn’t always a location. Those we love stay with us as we move through this messy world.

But how come I keep coming back to this lake?

Messy. What a beautiful word. How messy all of this is. Me. The traffic. Changed plans. Unexpected encounters. Arguments. Family. Kids. Laughter. Romance. Sickness. Life. Death. Work. Music. Art. The Lake.

All of it. So imperfect and messy.

And sure isn’t that perfect in itself?