So I contained dinner leftovers and loaded the dishwasher, fished the dishwasher detergent out from under the sink and filled the little tubs where it goes, closed the packed appliance and started the wash cycle. There are a million little points where you realize a place is home, and another million that catch your attention as you leave again. This is the last box of dish washing soap I’ll have to buy before moving. I start measuring all my liquids and perishables—things movers won’t move, things that wouldn’t make it through the transpacific barge and storage process anyway—I start measuring them all in time-until-move-date. Hand soap running low. Is it worth it to buy more of the Bath and Body Works scents I like, or should I use up a travel bar I snagged from a motel room? When we moved in six months ago we were firm about not living in a “we’re leaving” mindset. Always plan on being somewhere longer than you expect. Don’t put off making friends or joining a church just because you’re leaving in nine months. Nine months would be a long time to go without friends or fellowship. But here on the tail end—three months ticking slowly downward—it’s harder to maintain that momentum. I shouldn’t sign up for nursery duty because I can’t see it through. We’ll only be here for three small group meetings in the fall. I don’t want to buy more Honeysuckle Foaming Hand Wash because I’ll have to throw away half the bottle. But that’s depressing. Better to think of it this way: I don’t have to buy dish soap until after we’ve moved to Japan! Or: the next hand soap I buy will be labled in Japanese and might accidentally be shampoo! ooo…that’s neat!