It has been so long that getting started has been daunting. Do I look back at the past and begin where I left off? Do I look to the future and what is coming? Or do I start where I am at? My goal is to start—so I’ll just start.

I have been living and loving in Morocco for 2 and a half years. In that time my dad has visited 4 times and my mama, once. Hamdullah. I live more than 5,000 miles away from my parents. Yet, I have spent more quality time with them in the past two years than I would if I lived in the same city. Last year I only spent 5 months without one of my parents by my side. I am so thankful for this. Mom and I even got to adventure into the UK and Ireland before we journeyed home for the summer. A few months back I told my dad— I need you. He got on a plane 4 days later. My parents are legends. They leave a mark wherever they go, but the biggest one of all, on me.

Grocery shopping is still overwhelming and maybe it will be until I can communicate clearly. I am learning the language slowly, but surely. It will take some time, but my vocabulary is growing. I have met some of my favorite people in the world here. One woman that particularly comes to mind is who I call my Moroccan Mama. She speaks Darija (the Arabic dialect spoken in Morocco) and the first year I was purely English. Now I have a little Darija/Arabic under my belt, but our communication is flawless. We have perfected it. People love to see us communicate because our baseline communication is love. We understand one another.

My apartment has an unbeatable view of the ocean. However, I am in the city center and the quiet falls between 4 and 6 in the morning.

You know when I moved here, the people who met me the first day bet that I wouldn’t last a year. I love them both dearly, so it makes me giggle that they had the odds stacked against me. You would have to if you saw me my first two weeks here. It is incredible, the strength and grit you can find within. Now, Morocco is also my home.

My bike isn’t as useful here as it was in Japan. The traffic is big city traffic, and the roadways are on par with Spokane in terms of potholes.

I have enjoyed sunsets and moonsets alike. I have slept under the stars in the Sahara and on the beach. I have spent time in villages where people use donkeys and horses for transportation. I have seen a house be built from the ground up, out of stones, with no machinery. I have seen a blind man lead his herd of sheep. This is Morocco. What we may call impossible is a day in the life here. Morocco is a place of dreams and inspiration, where the impossible is possible.

Looking back at my incredible journey with elephants and lions, and the fears I confronted… I set out on a similar adventure this past summer. I did a 10-day silent meditation retreat, a challenge that tested every fiber of my being. I went deep into my heart, mind, and soul, unearthing many emotions and experiences. I don’t know if I will do one of these again, but I remain grateful for the healing that began. After this course I got to fill the rest of the summer with a love story of its own. My two worlds got to mix. My people from home got to meet my person from Morocco, my person got to meet my people. A first time, wondrous experience.

Homesickness comes and goes—so summers are reserved for home as well as winter breaks when it is possible. I would like to get back to writing— I want to write a book. Considering the tools and resources available these days, I should be able to figure out how exactly to do it. However, any advice is welcome.

I will leave you with some life lessons from Dad in the recent past:

No decision is a decision.

You have 2 choices—Make a change, or don’t.

When given bad news, don’t fly off the handle right away…most problems will take care of themselves as long as you don’t make them worse.

So, I started.

All the sparkles ✨

illies