As the sun starts to
set, I make my way toward the back of the house. I like to meditate as the
bright orange and red orb touches the horizon. The cool grass feels great under
my barefeet. I close my eyes to the laughter of our children as they play tag
with our baby goat. The crackle of the wood and the smoke wafting through the
air is so familiar now. Peter is starting the fire for tonight’s dinner. I
smell it even as I awake halfway across the globe.
The sheetrock walls give it away. We’re back in the States
and I'm more than a little homesick for Botswana. The hardwood floors are kinder to
my feet than the cold terracotta tile. Wood holds onto warmth from the
efficient baseboard heaters. These are things you forget to be grateful for.
This, and not having to shuffle your feet to keep from stepping on scorpions as
you make your way toward the bathroom pre-dawn.
Small price to pay – warmth and security. Our bodies might
be back in NY, but our hearts will always be in Africa.
It’s been nearly10 years since moving back, and I still wonder
why we weren’t able to stay. More than a little resentful at times, I know the
answer. It’s amazing that I have to remind myself of it, but I know the answer.
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