To be honest, I’ve put off writing this post. I have found laundry to do, books to read, closets to reorganize — anything to delay revisiting the day I returned home after Typhoon Glenda. But you, dear readers, have very politely read the first two installments of this story, and you deserve to know how it ended.

When I walked into my house on the morning of July 17th, I was looking forward to a cup of coffee and a leisurely breakfast. That didn’t happen.

The first thing that struck me when I walked through the house was that it seemed unnaturally quiet. There was no bird chatter or excited, welcome-home barking from my dog, Lai Lai.

“Lai Lai”, I called. Silence.

I raced through the house but she wasn’t there. Her blanket wasn’t there. Her water bowl wasn’t there.

“Oh my God”, I shouted.

An unsmiling Martin said, “Things have changed”.

Anyone who has ever loved a dog knows how I felt when I realized that my dog had died while I was away. I still can’t think about that morning without crying. We spent eleven beautiful years together and it breaks my heart to think that she died without me by her side. I knew that she had been failing, but hadn’t realized that she was so near the end. Why couldn’t she have waited for me?

I’ve thought about it a lot and have come to the conclusion that Lai Lai hung on much longer than she should have — because of me. From the moment we first laid eyes on one another eleven years ago we had loved each other — so deeply that neither of us could bear to say goodbye. So she slipped away quietly while I was gone. Easier for both of us. One final gift.

While I was absorbing this terrible blow, Martin then broke the news that our birds had been stolen while he slept one night. My fury howled like the typhoon that had just ripped through the country. Outraged that some people choose to live their lives in the gutters, like vermin.

There was more bad news to come. Our landlord had visited the week before, announcing that he’ll be moving here from Australia in October. We have three months to find a new home. Though this was not unexpected, it wasn’t particularly welcome news. Who likes moving? (though I am incredibly excited about being free of this annoying landlord)

This was definitely not the homecoming I had been hoping for.

I’m in limbo right now. Life is changing and I’m not sure where we are heading. It feels like I’ve been slammed by a wave and am being tumbled and tossed through the surf. I know I will eventually surface, but can’t be sure exactly where. I can only trust that it will be in a good place. I’ll let you know…

Thank you for joining me on this crazy journey!

India