It's the Final Countdown

        This past Monday I was at one of my small mountain schools and had a moment of shock when, after checking and double-checking my work schedule, I realized that my next visit to the school will be my last. 

        I always imagined that I would feel more prepared for my departure from my schools, and yet somehow this feels like it’s magically snuck up behind me and smacked me over the head, leaving me dazed.  How did my time at my schools trickle down to days?  And how is this all so surprising?  I signed the paperwork, I made the decision months ago.  My successor has already been assigned.  I’m less than 50 days away from my departure from Kansai Airport, and the tickets are paid for.  And yet, why does this feel so surprising?

        And it’s not a fun surprise either, like finding an extra $20 bucks in the back pocket of your jeans you forgot was there.  It’s more like going to the dentist for dental work, and discovering you really do need a root canal – surprise!

        It’s strange to think that my experience in Japan will culminate in a matter of weeks.  People ask me what I want to do during my last days, and when I want to schedule farewell parties and luncheons, and it’s getting overwhelming.  I’m starting to get that panicky feeling in my chest when I think of all the things I want and need to do before I leave this place.  I’m starting to feel like this:

I've been perfecting my "Oh...sh*t" face for a long time.

        I know that for the most part, people are trying to be considerate when they ask me what I want to do, and I appreciate it.  But for indecisive basket cases like myself, constantly reminding me that my time is running out doesn’t help keep my eye on the prize (finally returning home after three years), but rather reminds me of the scene in Aladdin when Jafar has trapped Jasmine in a giant hourglass and she nearly suffocates. 

        I am honestly flattered and grateful that teachers want to organize farewell parties for me, and friends want to take me out to dinner one last time, but it’s this “one last time” business that’s causing distress.  I am figuratively drowning in sand, and every time the conversation focuses more on the urgency of my departure than just spending time with me, more sand drops onto my shoulders.

        Trust me, no one knows more about the amount of time I have left – and the sense of urgency that countdown creates – than I do. I don’t have to be reminded. 

        So in response to the questions of “what do you want to do before you leave?”  I want to spend as much time as possible appreciating the little things I’ve grown comfortable with and taken for granted over the last three years.  I’m going to be eating out a lot more and taking a lot more walks around the neighborhood if anyone would care to join me.  I’ll be leaving Shingu either the 31st of July or 1st of August and spending a few days in Kyoto, Nara and Osaka before flying on August 6th, so if anyone wants to hang out in any of those cities I’d enjoy your company.

        In an attempt to quell the panic, I’m planning to take each day as it comes, rather than focus on the countdown like it’s a bomb about to explode.  All good things must come to an end, and this is no different.