The countdown

It’s the middle of August, and somehow everything is moving both too fast and not fast enough. My last month at work feels like a slow exhale. I’m wrapping up projects, handing the unfinished ones over, and preparing for my final day. The goodbyes felt calm, warm, almost grounding. No dramatic tears, just quiet moments of gratitude for the years we shared.

Outside of work, my life has been shrinking in the best possible way. I sold or gave away most of my furniture and clothes. All that’s left fits into a couple of boxes filled with the kind of things you can’t throw away - personal notes, clothes I can’t part with, a few books that have shaped me. Everything else found a new home. It feels strangely freeing.

On the first day of the September, I handed over the key to the new tenant. Before shutting the door one last time, I walked through the empty rooms, expecting a wave of emotion to hit me. But nothing came. And not because I didn’t love that space once - I did - but because I’m not supposed to be there anymore. I hadn’t felt comfortable inside those walls for a long time. Leaving didn’t feel sad. It felt right.

So for these last couple of weeks before the big departure, I’m back at my parents’ place. It’s familiar and a little chaotic and full of small comforts: shared dinners, long conversations, reminders of where I come from. They’re letting me breathe here while everything around me changes.

My flight leaves on September 11th from Vienna.
My first stop: New Delhi, India.

I keep trying to picture how that moment will feel - stepping onto the plane, leaving everything I know for a year of unknowns. I’m sure the reality will be louder, brighter, messier than anything I can imagine right now. But for the first time in a long while, I can feel excitement mixing with the nerves. It’s happening. It’s close.

And I’m ready.