Take a breath... and another...
Usually at this time of my "leavings" I am becoming more and more irritated by my current country and culture. I remember times of temperamental impatience as someone took too long to find a price for my can of tomatoes... or a car managed to perform a particularly common irrational moving violation in my immediate vicinity... or a beggar asked just one more time...
I've not felt that this time. This last time. I am more filled with understanding and nostalgia. I'm much more gracious than usual. This can only be the grace of God, I think, as I pack another box and say another goodbye. Tears are always close. I well up at the slightest inclination... crossing the Zambezi at sunset... waiting for cows to get out of the road... sweating in the heat as the kids come out of the school... remembering him or her or those other ones.
I sigh a lot. I've heard it is good for you. I hate crying, but my grandma warned me it gets worse with age. I'm proving her right. I wondered how I'd get through this last year of last times for everything familiar. I've had the luxury of time to sort my past and make peace with my future. There is so much to look forward to, but for now I am soaking up a present. My present is filled with letting go and holding on in just the right measure. I question if I need what I'm keeping or if it is too extravagant of a treasure (a $20 red cupboard I bought on a roadside in Zimbabwe for my first child). Is the "lembrança" (memento) for my friend appropriate? It is something... sometimes too much and sometimes not enough.
I think I'm worried about being judged about leaving well. People are so kind and speak such sweet things to my heart. "Maybe you will come back to work on another project," they quip hopefully. "We will miss you," some remark dutifully. Will they think I've been unfair? I hope not. I really hope not.
Today I bought birthday cakes at a Black Friday sale for the preemie twins who've turned 12 and I missed two birthdays. I'll drop them off on my way to the airport to pick up my kiddos and Mikael. He left today to pick them up in the northern town where a direct flight brings them. On my way from the airport, I let some friends test drive our car. Once home, I cringed at my son's cough... the timing of the flu is really terrible and I pray it will just stop. Then I roasted tiny butternuts that were the closest thing I found to pumpkin for the welcome home/Thanksgiving pie for tomorrow's arrival. As I write, I pray. This is their last night at boarding school where they have made a home away from home with friends from everywhere who they may or may not meet again.Yes, I cry for them. They have to leave somewhere, too.
It's time for bed. I'll schedule this to post after they are safely home and we are all together here again for just a little while. A gift of present where we can breathe and sort out another step in our way ahead. Take a breath... say a prayer... and another...
I've not felt that this time. This last time. I am more filled with understanding and nostalgia. I'm much more gracious than usual. This can only be the grace of God, I think, as I pack another box and say another goodbye. Tears are always close. I well up at the slightest inclination... crossing the Zambezi at sunset... waiting for cows to get out of the road... sweating in the heat as the kids come out of the school... remembering him or her or those other ones.
I sigh a lot. I've heard it is good for you. I hate crying, but my grandma warned me it gets worse with age. I'm proving her right. I wondered how I'd get through this last year of last times for everything familiar. I've had the luxury of time to sort my past and make peace with my future. There is so much to look forward to, but for now I am soaking up a present. My present is filled with letting go and holding on in just the right measure. I question if I need what I'm keeping or if it is too extravagant of a treasure (a $20 red cupboard I bought on a roadside in Zimbabwe for my first child). Is the "lembrança" (memento) for my friend appropriate? It is something... sometimes too much and sometimes not enough.I think I'm worried about being judged about leaving well. People are so kind and speak such sweet things to my heart. "Maybe you will come back to work on another project," they quip hopefully. "We will miss you," some remark dutifully. Will they think I've been unfair? I hope not. I really hope not.
Today I bought birthday cakes at a Black Friday sale for the preemie twins who've turned 12 and I missed two birthdays. I'll drop them off on my way to the airport to pick up my kiddos and Mikael. He left today to pick them up in the northern town where a direct flight brings them. On my way from the airport, I let some friends test drive our car. Once home, I cringed at my son's cough... the timing of the flu is really terrible and I pray it will just stop. Then I roasted tiny butternuts that were the closest thing I found to pumpkin for the welcome home/Thanksgiving pie for tomorrow's arrival. As I write, I pray. This is their last night at boarding school where they have made a home away from home with friends from everywhere who they may or may not meet again.Yes, I cry for them. They have to leave somewhere, too.It's time for bed. I'll schedule this to post after they are safely home and we are all together here again for just a little while. A gift of present where we can breathe and sort out another step in our way ahead. Take a breath... say a prayer... and another...
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