235 days in Africa
555 days to go
23 days until Ryan’s face is pressed against my face in sweet embraces and watery eyes and big smiles
23 books read (see list below)
13 hours until bedtime
258 days without Ryan
WE NEED TO NEVER EVER MAKE THIS LIST AGAIN.
...Some days I wake with bad-dream malaise. It can take a long time to pass but it is often forgotten when the babies show up. Baby goats, sheep, dogs, Babies. Precious and trusting and innocent and watchful. Some days I wake with reality malaise. Babies don’t help with this. This is a toughie to shake because it is encompassing. It is too hot outside, inside for that matter. Too. Too. Much.
Some days I wake up and am infinitely happy. I go have coffee in my kitchen hut, make my bed, clean a little (there is always dirt and termite dust in a halo around my shoes and on the floor), put on SPF60, take potable water to my host family to do the little I can to ensure safe drinking water for the time I’m here, and truly purely enjoy the liberties of the life of a Volunteer. These days I read, write, chat with friends of strong Malian tea while sitting under beautiful ancient trees atop bamboo mats for praying to the east, I walk about and greet and take in this L.I.F.E. I am here. I am now. Here and now.
Those are good days.
Some days I wake up and smile and stretch knowing that soon and forever I’ll be waking up to the love of my life, I’ll nuzzle my face into his back, he’ll turn over, cradle me and give me a sleep and sloppy kiss and we will live together with Fisher and Tuk and Zoe (god willing).
Today will be a good day. Even if it isn’t, good luck wiping this smile off my face.
….. a little later
It is 1130am it is 109F and steadily rising… sweat is dripping off my chin, is swelling behind my knees and slipping down my back. Although my face is slick and glistening with sweat and caked dirt it is still grinning about my future mornings. My forever mornings.
Side note: I love these pens. Thank the Biglows.