On March 8th I’ll have 30 days left in Paraguay. At that point, I’ll no longer be able to deny the countdown I’ve struggled against by hiding behind weeks and months before departure. The days are numbered like pages. As with a good book, I’m excited to start a new chapter, but sad to move forward because the story is so interesting I could just stay in the middle of it…indefinitely.

March leading to April is a good time in Paraguay. School is up and running again, students pass my house in their uniform skirts, pants, and leather shoes. The weather starts to cool and the citrus are coming in–lemons and fat grapefruit, oranges and mandarins will come later. Catholics begin to prepare their souls for Easter. This year Easter week, called Saint’s Week here, falls in March. I arrived in my community for Saint’s Week two years ago and I will leave Paraguay just after it this year. Saint’s Week is the week of chipa, family, and disturbing TV series about the rise, fall, and rise of Jesus.

During March and April two years ago I was finishing my Peace Corps training and adjusting to my new home in my community–everything was a first. The same months last year, I was glowing with the accomplishments of a volunteer who rocked her first year in site and had stellar prospects for the coming year. This year, I’m saying goodbye and everything is turning into a “last.” It is hard to imagine things that have been fundamental in my life for two years as lasts… My last party in site dancing until dawn. My last soccer game. My last…Why does “last” have an innately depressing ring to it?

The days are numbered and it would be a lie to say that I’m not ready to take the leap to the next thing. When I leave my little house on a Paraguayan hill, I have three weeks of wandering until I land in my next home, which will be in northern Vermont. Vermont will be a launching pad; there I’ll be catapulted into the trajectory of becoming a doctor. I’ve had two thoughtful years in the hot, humid land of Paraguay to meditate on doctor-hood. It is the right road to take next, but the irony of leaving Paraguay to go to Vermont to germinate my new self is not lost. Anything can flourish in Paraguay, but only the hardiest of seeds sprout and produce in Vermont’s stingy sun.

I do not miss places. Place inherently have a mix of favorable and annoying characteristics. And, in most walks of earth, I can adapt and even prosper in the mix of features that makes the place.

I do not miss entire cultures. Cultures are like ecosystems; they have many parts that rely on each other to stay together. Like I find it difficult to appreciate mosquitoes and ants, I find it impossible to accept every aspect of a culture. There are beliefs I adore and there are those I hate. I navigate by focusing on what resonates with me and ignoring the rest to the best of my ability.

I miss people. I feel their absence from my heels to the top of my messy bun. There are lots of people in our world, but there are few individuals who are mostly good. In Spanish we could call those people who tip the balance dramatically to the side of kind, fun, and just “buena anda.” “Buena anda” translates to something like “good way” or “good walk”– maybe the English phrase is “good people.” I’ve struck a fortune and made friends with some buena anda people in Paraguay. And, the readiness I feel to leave the red earth of the Guarani is dulled by the thought of moving far away from the people I love here.

My young Paraguayan friends have Facebook. There is the mail system and the chance that I will return to Paraguay for a visit. Yes, it is undeniable that the tools to “stay in touch” are available. But, having played this game of geography before, I know it is not the tools that are the most important factor to staying connected.

My closest friends and I can pick up where we left off after any amount of time, and no matter how brief our reconnect. And, my Paraguayan friends will be like that, we will carry on when we talk or are together. But, I have learned that as life goes on the time between catch-up sessions with far away friends grows. It lengthens until the relationship is mostly founded on the memories of times when we lived close. I have vivid and profound memories with my friends from this overlooked, South American country. I know what we shared will live on in our metaphorical hearts. But, I still find myself pausing in the way I learned during my years sweating in the Paraguayan humidity and lounging in mango shade.

The days are numbered. I can count them. Soon the count will be zero and I will embark on the road less traveled. I must go. I want to go. But, I don’t want to forget. I don’t want the people I knew here to fade in my life like old photographs. I don’t want the indescribable understanding of life that Paraguay gave me to get lost in a cobweb corner of my mind. Now, as I look to the horizon, I don’t just ask what is to come. There is a more emotional question that plagues me: How will I remember?

The end of December marked 100 days left in my Peace Corps service. The mix of heart-break and joy I feel thinking about leaving Paraguay is beyond my power of words to describe. But, this moment is a good chance to think about why I came to Paraguay in the first place and where I could see myself in the future.

I came to Paraguay to grow. I came to help others, and myself, cultivate new skills and ideas by sharing—my dream is that Paraguayans have learned something from me over the past 2 years. Paraguayans have changed my way of being, from adding terere to my routine to warping how think about machismo. In the formal setting of my classes, I hope that some students grabbed something that they can use…whether it be how to put on a condom or a vague understanding that there are ways to see the world that are very different from their own. On a personal level, I look forward to life-long friendships with the amazing people I’ve met.

New Years 2014, I was getting ready to leave the USA for 2 years. I was excited and petrified. I wanted the adventure of living in another country for a chuck of time and I was eager to see what would come of my Peace Corps service. But, every single piece of service preparatory literature and every former and current volunteer I talked to said to try not to form expectations about Paraguay and what my service would be like because I could not know until I started. The fog about my future was chilling. I did my best to have a blank slate mind when I landed in Asuncion after an exhausting flight filled with raw nerves. I remember it was sunny and hot when I arrived in Paraguay. Everything here was new and exciting when I piled into the van that took me away from the airport and the world I’d known.

Since middles school, perhaps before but I don’t remember, the world beyond my itsy, bitsy town in rural Vermont held my interest. Places outside the borders—state, country, and continent—called to me. In 8th grade I began a love affair with Spanish, which continues to fester and prod me to evaluate every move as not only a personal or professional decision, but also a language choice. When I fell head-over-heals for Spanish, I knew that one way or another my path would meander beyond the land of the free and home of the brave to places whose values and virtues were unknown to me.

With fewer than 100 days left, I can say the hardest part is leaving. Leaving friends and loved ones. Leaving routines and places that are familiar. It is easy to float along doing what seems logical and secure. It is comforting to have a home-base, a set schedule, and a clear purpose. And, going abroad destroyed all those things for me. But, in their place equal, though different, pleasures germinated. I now know I can bend and sway and operate in foreign lands. I know that there are parts of myself that will always be true and strong; for example, I value honesty above all things and will never drink alcohol. And there are parts of me that will adapt to the environment, such as what I eat and how I spend time with people.

Volunteers like to ask each other, “If you knew what you know now about how your service would be, would you still have decided to do it?” My answer is a definitive “yes.” I would choose to come to Paraguay when I did in every alternate path of my life that could have been. This New Years, welcome 2016, I am not the lady I was 2 years ago. My biggest crop in the Paraguay season of my life has been me. I could not be who I am today without the laughs, frustrations, and pleasures Paraguay gave me. I am leaving Paraguay soon, I may only return for vacation (who knows), but Paraguay has a piece of my heart.

Am I achieving what I came here to do? Heck yeah, I just didn’t know in coming to Paraguay that my main accomplishment would be learning how to crack the hard shell of life and let happiness sprout wherever the wind takes me. We can not foretell the future, just as we can not guess the weather no matter what meteorologist try to make us believe, but Paraguay was the thunder before a storm. Bring it on 2016.