Missing before leaving

I try not to think about it. But with just three months left, I keep thinking: I’m going to miss Hong Kong. Just a few months ago, I was ready to leave. But now I feel as if I’m not ready, that I haven’t lived here long enough. I think about how I will miss everyone I’ve met (from my fellow Fulbrighters to all the wonderful local, mainland, international, and expat writers to random musicians/artists/students to chance encounters to the cashiers who work at Wellcome to my the security guard at my building who nods and smiles at me when I come in late at 1am). I’m going to miss the theme song that plays in the MTR station; the plethora of escalators; Vita drinks (specifically soy milk, lemon tea, and mango-orange); the red glow of street markets smelling of durian, oranges, and cilantro; the beautiful beaches where little kids run around with buckets of sand; adorable Chinese kids; the busy streets/buildings of Central and the bright multi-colored cityscape at night; the sudden burst of greenery; visiting the islands (the drying fish and shrimp, the no-car rule, the banana trees); homemade dumpling soup; laundry drying out the window; double-decker buses and trolleys; the Octopus card; the heavy smell of incense and Chinese radio next door; eating dinner Chinese-style; Food Forum (tasty fast food: Korean kimchee noodle pot); the manic markets of Mong Kok selling clothes and tons of other stuff you don’t need; the grime and grit of wet markets; jazz and blues nights; old women and men exercising/hanging out at the parks; the flower markets full of bamboo, orchids, and peonies; temples; the long trek up to Caine Road when the escalator stops running at midnight; the cats in my neighborhood and on Wellington; Japanese candy stores; the crazy haircuts teenagers have; ladies night on Wednesdays (free drinks); cheap and delicious bakeries; walking down the street and seeing so many Chinese faces (strangely comforting); hearing Cantonese...