It's been a year and a half since I left Texas.  Memories there are like a book I read of someone else's life. Flipping through the chapters, I am glad some are distant. Others, I mourn their passing. Former friends are busy living their lives, but I still send occasional postcards or letters rather than emails. Handwritten words seem more personal than finger messages typed in a hurry. It means I still care and cherish those connections. Other connections have been cut, thrown, stomped, and buried.

I've moved on.

It's funny how most acquaintances and friendships over the past five decades have dissipated into the Netherlands with no regret. And then later, a few remain as life-long connections. Those are the ones we take with us, no matter where we go. One or two I still reach out for in the darkness of the night, still unable to understand how they dissolved. But no matter how much I wish for a reconnection, the other end has to want it, too.

This might be my last decade. It fills not only with new people, but also many new relationships with all the other living creatures around me wherever I go. And I enjoy every moment that they share with me. My delight in the smallest experience knows no bounds. And I feel like I am genuinely alive. No demands, no commitments, no ties.

I'm free.