this journey.

You measure it in the days that seem to crawl by and the weeks that pass in a blur. By the kids screaming your name as you walk the four feet to the classroom door. By the sheer volume of root crop you consume at local feasts. It's found in the chickens that wake you up in the morning, the weevils that infest your baking flour. 

You measure it in the quantity of blue tailed lizards that fall on you while standing in door frames. In the number of pigs and wild horses that dart out of the way as you walk through the village. 

 
You measure it in the number of “Malo e lelei”s you hear in town and the yells you get at the Saturday morning market. It’s found in the sea turtles that poke their heads out from the turquoise sea and the cups of kava consumed every evening. It sings with the choir at 5am practice. It’s in the number of pails of rainwater collected for drinking and the number of kisses received by your new village family.