A storm approached the shoreline of Sri Lanka. It was a dark and broody wall of grey that stirred up the winds, knocking around our window shutters at the Galle Face Hotel - an old colonial gem, seemingly built when time began. Waiters raced around the courtyard below, making hurried arrangements with stiff arms and shouting in an unknown tongue. There was a party later that evening, and the Sinhalese workers slowly built some sort of cover from the rain over a chessboard dance floor, however impermanent. Beyond the courtyard, Boardwalkers scampered to get to their destination in double time. It seemed that everyone was bracing for an event - the storm. We were too zoomed out to really notice. Looking at the world from a google map view can make a storm seem insignificant. From our perch, we could only see the future. We had a long way home.
The time was June of 2011, we had just been married, and in front of us was business school, our first house as a couple, a move from Texas to Indiana, and whatever else the future may bring. We had to find home.
Looking back, that rainy night feels like the last night of a different age, an age where I learned how to feel the earth under my feet, an age where I learned to shift slowly with the globe, an age where I dusted off all the failures and stupidity that had accumulated around me and realized - Hey, I am still here, and now, I plan to do something about it.
