Don't Ask What's Next

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Morrie said, when you learn how to die, you learn how to live.

We were a tad nervous to put Japan as our first choice for when Cary finished flight school. But we put it. Relishing in the risk and patting ourselves on the backs. Pinterest quotes floating in our heads. But then we didn't get it. Which was more disappointing I think than we let on to each other. So we looked on the bright side of getting stationed in San Diego for three years. Of course we found ourselves basking in the sun from nearly every side of it.

Hitherto! We got wind Japan might still be an option after the Romeo RAG (replacement air group, bah acronyms) training in sunny-side-up SD. So when Cary met the skipper and friends from NAF Atsugi who were in town - and we ended up having the chance to go to a Japan reunion dinner of sorts - and we were both drooling like Hooch at the possibility of still being able to live overseas on the government's dime, somehow got that dime flicked our way.

There's something about not being able to have something that makes you want it that much more. Moving to Japan became a craving instead of a challenge. I really wanted it more. I bugged Cary about it more. And when I got home from work one day, tired and irritable despite the sun and wondering why Cary chose to sit so close to me on the couch, he told me, "We're going to Japan."

After the squealing and hugging and that irrepressible smile that makes you feel like a bit of an idiot, I realized I was no longer all that nervous for the obvious reasons - just excited and eager to see what would happen. I was reading Tuesday's With Morrie, and the words of his philosophy keep echoing in my mind, reinforcing that living like you're dying is the way to go...

If we fall out of the sky - we're booked on one of those battery-melting Dreamliners ... Or I get swept away in a tsunami or smooshed in an earthquake ... If I get imprisoned for a mistake, or kidnapped and no one notices ... Or if I get pick-pocketed, lost, bored and can't find a job, have a kid and can't find my husband because he's out flying overpriced helicopters off little ships ... It won't matter, because I chose adventure over more of the same.

CNATT Detachment Atsugi

We leave this week, and even though we're fast approaching our departure from America, I feel a strange sense of calm though I have no idea how the below will pan out:

• What will it be like without cell phones for a while?
• Will I be so exhausted after a day-long flight and traffic-riddled drive that I kill Cary?
• Will we find a cool (wait, warm) home with a patch of grass for Butters?
• Will we be able to balance the pilot/writer lifestyle of too much work and not enough?
• Will I be able to speak and write some Japanese after three frickin' years?
• Will I keep running and flossing and pretending to be a good person?
• Will I be able to stay in touch with beloved peeps?
• Will I ever want to come back?

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I never thought I'd be this okay with not knowing the answers to questions like where will I live and what will I do. Maybe because I know we've come a long way since internet cafes, and narrow roads can be funsies not just death traps. It won't all be easy peasy Japanese-y, but it will be worth the story.