I'm at Narita airport now, in Tokyo. Soon I will board the long international flight to the U.S. I've been here many times, in fact, I was in this same spot almost exactly three months ago, about to embark on almost the same flight, wearing my same "travel skirt;" however, I couldn't be more different.
The ReBekha who boarded that December flight to America was nearly bursting with excitement. Her left hand, newly adorned with a shiny ring, seemed to float through the airport. She beamed at every stranger she passed, hoping they'd ask her where she was going, and why.
It's easy to tell people about an engagement. You show them the ring, squeal a little, absorb every "Congratulations!" and "When's the wedding?!" Absorb all that excitement and beam it right back at them.
But how do you tell people the opposite?
As I sit at this same gate, preparing to board this same flight, wearing the same clothes, I feel like a completely different person. I can't stand to look strangers in the eye, because I am afraid they will know. My left hand, though newly unburdened, seems to be made of lead. If anyone asked me where I was going and why, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to answer.
I don't know how to be this person, and I don't know how to share this news. Posting it on a public blog is probably the worst way, but I need people to just know. I need them to not ask "When's the wedding?!" to not shout "Congratulations!" and to not look for the ring. It's not there now, and it never will be again.