Stepping onto Laos soil

When I think of Laos, my heart immediately connects to the country of my birth. The country of my father, mother, and grandparents. The country where I have so many precious memories full of endearing moments of my youth. The country which I love and am re-discovering all over again after nearly 30 years of being away. I have returned.

As I stepped off the plane, the air felt different. I felt different. The fragrant hint of the Champa flowers took me back to my first day of school where my mother (or was it my father?) pinned a flower in my hair. I remember the excitement as I checked my bag for the 10th time making sure I had everything. My father and brother, Mickey, walked with me that day. I can still hear his voice: “This is the path that you take, only walk along this road. If you veer off, the nagas, tigers and ghosts will come get you!”

My father told Mickey and I as we ran ahead of him screaming happily as he pretends to struggle to catch up to us. My father took my hand and stared down at me. I saw the worry in his eyes. It was not from leaving me at school.