Almost two years ago I wrote you a letter apologizing for not wanting to move here. I was so wrong for hesitating to come. I have had the most amazing two years here and now it's ending.
I'm getting on an airplane today that takes me away from you and even though I hope I'll get to come back someday, at least for a visit, I don't know if I'll actually be able to. It wasn't all perfect here, but the things I didn't love weren't your fault (the only exception would be the mosquito and jejene bites). And, just like I predicted in that letter, I am going to miss you forever.
I am going to miss everything about you. I will miss the thunderstorms in the summer that light up the sky and turn the roads outside to rivers and pounded on the skylights. I will miss buying tamales on the street corner. I will miss climbing pyramids. I will miss people who are endlessly patient with my Spanish and who are always willing stop to help complete strangers get out of really big messes. I will miss your street art and fine art. I will miss your mariachis and Zeta gas jingles. I will miss your fiestas and danzas, your pilgrimages and pinatas. I will miss Mexico DF and Morelia, Guanajuato and San Blas, Campeche and Santa Elena. I will miss exploring everywhere we could. I will miss meeting members of the church in five different states and hearing their stories. I will miss your food forever.
There is so much here that I ran out time for. Aguascalientes, Zacatecas, El Tajin, Oaxaca, so many interviews, hot air balloon festivals, bird watching, whale sighting and more. I could live here forever and never get bored. But I also saw and did so much while we were here and I know that when another plane takes me to Riyadh in a few months, I'll dig in deeply there too. Even though I always have to keep leaving, I'm always arriving and discovering a new place.
Thank you for letting me visit, dear Mexico, and hasta luego.