When I was younger I began multiple tunnels in my backyard thinking that one of them would eventually lead to either China or Africa, depending on how straight of a tunnel I could dig. Throwing dirt about with a plastic shovel meant for a sandbox was not only very ineffective, but also very tiring and my quest was abandoned. A tunnel could not get me there, a written application and a couple of interviews would.
September 3rd. I leave my home in 92 days for almost a year. People ask me every day if I'm nervous or scared or excited or almost any other emotion, and the answer is yes. Yes, I am all these things. I'm also ready. I'm ready to be thrown into a new culture with a new family, thinking I know so much and feel as though I don't know anything. I'm ready to love the people of Ghana and make it my second home. I'm ready to open this new chapter of my life.
Saying goodbye. I'm seeing so many people for the last time before I go. It's not an easy thing. While I don't see my siblings much during the year since they all live in different states, leaving the country seems different. I won't be there for Thanksgiving in San Francisco. I probably won't be there for my sister's wedding. I'll miss so much. I'll have gained so much, but life will still go on here. I can't change that.
So I make the most of every moment I have. I saw my brother get his PhD from Harvard last week. I'm flying to San Francisco on Wednesday. I'm incredibly happy. Every moment is *bittersweet.
92 days.
*Speaking of bittersweet, for my brother's birthday we all took little tablets which had extracts from a berry local to West Africa which made every bitter thing sweet. Oh the analogies...
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