Tonight, I feasted on clams with lemongrass and barbequed oysters topped with green onion and peanuts. I bit through the shells of crab covered in hot chili oil, so spicy it burned my lips, watered my eyes, made me cry and laugh at the same time, and sucked out nutty flakes of red and white flesh. Made a real mess of my clothes and the tiny plastic table we sat around on miniature stools, surrounded by people I had just met, some of which I now call family. Our knees were touching, elbows bumping up against each other as we funneled food into our mouths. A puppy gnawed on discarded sea shells under my chair.

The streets were wet from another early season downpour. It’s the second time the rain has broken the tremendous heat since I’ve been in this city. The first time it came, it was not a coincidence but a symbol of release from a heavy, emotional load. Tonight, maybe it was just about the rain. Or maybe somewhere else in the city, it started to pour just as someone else’s life had irrevocably changed.

Now, I am alone. Tired from the week and everything it has brought into my life. All the new things. New people. New truths. New ways of looking at things past.

By now, I thought I’d be ready to wrap it up, put a big, shiny red bow on it. A conclusion to what I thought was maybe was a quarter-life crisis.

Turns out, my story has just begun.

But for now, I am going to let it all go with the rain. Gonna put on my headphones and dance, dance, dance by myself on the bed of this fourth floor, 6×12 hotel room until my head spins and I fall asleep hard, full and happy.