“Dial it back…” she tells me.

Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom. – Aristotle

I’ve returned home. Moldova that is…a.k.a. “acasa două mea” (“my second home”). I’ve officially been in-country 9 days. Moldova looks different to me, in a good way. Those goo-goo eyes I once had are refreshingly goo-goo but with a side of experience.

 

The challenges before I left are past tense, the newer ones already revealing themselves like spry popcorn. I’ve decided to take the next 9 days slower, less intense.

 

Cut out a thing or two here, rid myself of that burden over there, don’t even take on that crisis yonder. Simpler. Less stressful. “Dialing-it back.” “Dial-it back” is a term my counselor uses. And so I have….at least so far.

 

I decided to visit my bunică again today. We had borș (soup pronounced BORSH) and wheat bread. Even it was simple, as she is on a no salt, no sugar, no fat diet after having a mild myocardial infarction (MI) a week prior to my returning. We talked. We ate. She asked. I answered. She slurped. I sopped. Simple.

Teaching myself to keep calm and not take on so much should be interesting. 1. It is not in my nature to do so. 2. Being still is actually more difficult for me than I give myself credit for.

 

I decided to take a walk after lunch. It’s actually been quite some time since I’ve felt comfortable enough to go out on my own. The mere thought of it gave me a tinge of anxiety before. But today wasn’t so bad. It even began to sprinkle but knowing Moldova, it wouldn’t last longer than a fart taken up by the wind. The open air is as great as it ever was, I’d just not enjoyed it the way I once did.

 

Perhaps my return to the States afforded me the opportunity to once again take the time to smell the roses or the horse manure, whichever you prefer. The coming final months of my service will be a treat I’m sure. It’s as if I was swaddled up in time to reflect in nostalgic relief. Our initial steps on this here land seem like forever ago. Many have gone and so much more has happened after that.

 

In just 4 months I’ll tell my “elevator story” and look back on this journey with regrets, laughs and mostly inconsistencies. I never imagined it to be this way. The unrest in being so close to myself in ways that makes me uncomfortable gives me pause. But the fortitude for which I now stand is endearing really.