Please- don't forget me.

she grabbed my hands in her own- pleading with her eyes, her gripping fingers, her broken English and her solemn smile. "Please. Don't forget me."

I remember you. I'm sorry to say, that the correct pronunciation of your name has faded like my Chiang Mai tan. I'm four months whiter under American clouds, and four months duller in the fog of western daily life. I miss your sun.

But I know your name.

"And they shall be called The Holy People,
The Redeemed of the LORD;
and you shall be called Sought Out,
A City Not Forsaken."

Isaiah 62:12

He calls to the ends of the earth. Remembering.