I am often alone. I feel alone in a house of joyful screams and giggles, and night time conversations with my love. I feel alone in a world of phone calls from friends just catching up, in a world where I am greeted by smiling faces and conversations with people at stores. I often find myself alone. 

Alone with my thoughts that often remind me of my insignificance in the world. A world I lust over its discovery and adventures. We travel seeking exploration and expeditions of novel worlds we have yet to touch. On one of these adventures, with my husband and two children we found our way to mystical Thailand. We sought out experiences that would bring us in touch with the people, with the culture, with the true essence of a land unknown to us. 

We prepared as we did in most of our travels. We packed, learned a few greetings in Thai and a children’s song too. The kids enjoyed this and it opened many doors, breaking barriers in our travels. We got to the hotel in Krabi that summer vacation. My children greeted the people at the front desk, “Sawadee Ka!”with the biggest smiles on their faces. All the staff flocked to my girls pinching cheeks and carrying them to show them the koi in the pond, all besotted with them. My heart grew in this exchange for a simple gesture they were taken in by my children. We were welcomed in love and warmth. The kind that was extended to us through our children. 

We would visit several sacred sites and temples, of them all, one etched a remembrance of magnificent incidences of love and belonging.

“Mommy, can I do that too?” Elsa, my oldest, five at the time asked pointing at a couple receiving blessings from a monk.

“You can, but listen carefully how you must be respectful.” I told her, as I was excited about her enthusiasm embracing another culture and learning. I gave her the instructions we had learned prior to our trip. 

She bowed with hands in a wai on her chest, then sat on the ground in front of the monk performing the blessings, her feet carefully tucked under her bottom, pointed away from the monk. He blessed her with a wand of straw and water. She smiled, they asked her name of which she said, “ Elsa! This is my sister Anna.” 

I watched this with pride for my children who were mindful of all the experiences, and I watch the monk smile wide at her and proceeded to bless her again as all the other monks around him all laughed and chattered in Thai. 

“Chang Chang Chang Chang Chang…” my daughter breaks out in song, singing the Thai children’s song she had learned. I was mortified and started to get her but I realized the laughter and joy in the room filling up as the monks clapped for her, some singing along as others in line clapped and cheered. I was overcome with a bliss I have found before, a thick enveloping of warmth and peace. The monk repeated the blessing ritual and blessed her even more, then tied a protective bracelet to her wrist. The toothless smiles made me smile. The banter in a language I didn’t understand; what I did understand was in his repetitive blessing of my children, the joy and laughter in the room, there was comfort in my soul. The loneliness was fleeting. We would be connected to all those here, in that blissful moment of love they bestowed upon my children, a wave of gratitude swept over me. 

We would carry on to hike the 1260 steps to the top of that mountain where the temple sat . On our way, there was a monk that busied away with long PVC pipes up and down that mountain, aiding a construction project. He stopped to speak to Elsa and Anna, he was a jovial one, telling jokes that made the girls explode in laughter, their little voices laced with his kind voice tugged on my heart. Another instance of connection in a world that very often left me feeling isolated in my solitude. Porn, the monk, blessed the children and said a prayer for them, his calloused hands on their heads. They closed their eyes as those little lashes blinked to peek at Porn who was praying. Smiles on all three of their faces told me I wasn’t alone as my children would never be in this vast world that would pave welcoming ways even when I was unable, unwilling to see it.  In a place where language separated us, there was an understanding I realized was always around me, invisible but powerful. I would find this sentiment repeated in most of our travels to foreign lands. Although I would be wanting for this when at home, I wonder if hiding behind the veil of a traveler; trusting the lack of knowledge of my being, gave more trust in their love than it does with those I love.

Flying home my mind had the hours to wander in the thoughts of our visit to that temple and the tremendous peace I had in watching my children connect with the world unencumbered by thoughts of being unattached to any part of the world around them. As they were connected, so was I, in the days I allow myself to believe, I am present and alive. In the days I do not, I remind myself of Thailand.