This letter is hard for me to write, as I never got to say a formal good-bye to you. I’ve been struggling the last few days, feeling like I didn’t get closure—I had to leave Tangier so abruptly.
I haven’t really had the chance to be sad about leaving you yet. Until now. And even as I’m writing this letter, the thought of not seeing you again fills my eyes with salty tears.
I thank you for the daily life lessons you gave me. It’s okay to be anxious, I’ve learned from you. That I just need to take a breath and BE ADAPTABLE because things can change in an instant. Get to know everyone you can was another lesson to travel, to be spontaneous, and to never hold back. This might sound like a cliché and I’ve always heard the saying, but I’ve never believed it until now: that there are some hidden gems around the world, so don’t stop until you’ve found all of them.
All the people you introduced me to are some of the greatest I’ve ever met. You really know how to make some great friends, and I admire that. Some of them will be back with me in Maine in the fall, but others I may not ever see again. It’s quite possible I’ll never see your colors, meet more of your people, and find more treasures in your shops, or walk your streets again. This thought contributes to the expanding puddles that are forming on my desk right now.
I will painfully miss everything about you: your strange smells that flow through all the streets, your kind people around every corner and in every place, your language and speaking with your locals, your eagerness to host me and all my new friends, your cities, and your eye-opening opportunities.
This is a letter to you, Morocco. I will be back.
With all my love,