Someone told me today that summer has arrived when the yellow flowers bloom. Just recently my home here has been surrounded by beautiful trees that bloom a very vibrant yellow flower. It was just a few weeks ago that these very same trees shed their leaves as if it were fall. I remember thinking that the trees looked ugly and bare, little did I know that they were about to turn into something very bright and pretty.
I think back to the distant time when I first arrived here. Everything was new and unfamiliar, scary and yet exciting at the same time. It's now eight months later; with a little more than a month left, I see the end approaching. It's funny because there hasn't been a day where I haven't thought about my time here. With every new day, a new experience occurs and again I am one day closer to the end. It's such a bitter sweet feeling. Sometimes all I can imagine is being home, because no matter where I go there will be no place like it. But at the same time, I also can't imagine not being here. Recently Andrews mission department sent me a package and in it was a letter. This letter was full of encouraging words; there was one part that hit me more than all the rest: "I know you may be super excited to come home, but let me encourage you to make the most of your last days there. Soon it will all be a memory, and believe it or not, you'll wishing you could go back!"
It's already started; the battle. It's a fight against time, part of me wants to fly through this last month with no looking back, but there's another part who wants to savor it forever. When I made this decision to come here, I could have never expected all that has happened. I just want to treasure this simple life a little bit more. Going home is a great thing, but it also means going back to the real world. I've grown accustom to this simple life. But there's a bottom line to all it, just like yellow flowers. They come every year, it's expected. I came here and I embraced the new experience, but now I have to start letting go and accept that eventually it'll be a memory.