I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye
Tonight was relatively normal.
I did some work, watched a little television (mainly Modern Family's season finale and then the rest was background noise), did a little light reading, and headed into my bathroom to the teeth brushing, face washing rituals that round out my evening. Slightly hopping toward my refrigerator, I grab a bottle of water and slip into my room and close the door, turning on my light.
Seems normal, right?
But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die
Turning around to take a look at the disaster that was my room, I realized this may be one of the last 'normal' nights I have in quite a while. Strewn about where t-shirts, and shoes, and boxes of things I didn't even know I still had in my possession. Everything I do know is in a large rolling backpack of sorts. I went over and over the checklist of things to bring probably one thousand times today with a fine-toothed comb (Speaking of which, I could probably have used one of tho---uh. Nevermind). So, from the looks of it it looks like I am ready to go. I am ready to head to Zanzibar.
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Well, that may just be from the looks of it. As I slid out of my clothes and climbed into my plush-filled memory foam mattress and readjusted the non-made bedsheets, I realized that I had already packed my "I'm sleeping without my heater of a boyfriend" blanket in my bag, and that I would just need to make due for the evening. With no blanket and no boyfriend it may be a task, but I've got a closed window and an optimistic look at sleep tonight.
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
The lack of warmth is not the only thing keeping me awake this evening, though. I've packed, I've prepared, and everything has come in the mail that I needed for the trip. So everything is done. But now I've got this overwhelming sense of anxiousness that comes with taking an unknown trip independently. I have so many questions that I really don't have the answers to.
Did I overpack?
How many books should I bring to read?
Is the 8 hour layover at Nairobi airport in the middle of the night going to be dangerous?
Is ANYONE getting my emails that I keep sending to Zanzibar?
How Muslim are the people I will be living with?
Will the fact that I'm American be a problem for them?
How am I going to know when they are picking me up from the airport?
WHO is picking me up from the airport?
Is my swahili any good?
Why does my suitcase all of the sudden look huge?
Will the kids like me?
How many of these kids will actually have AIDS?
What the HELL am I going to do in London all day?
'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go
Basically, all the questions I could ever ask are running through my head. I can't really talk to anyone about it, because no one really gets what I am doing. No one that I have relied on to deal with many trying things in my life understands what packing up and leaving to a place with hardly any internet let alone electricity, toilets, and bedrooms would be like. So, naturally, as I walk into my cushy (albeit messy) bedroom, turn on a light, crawl into bed with my laptop and bottled water and begin to type, I can't help but think that in a few days none of this will be possible until the end of June.
Now the time has come to leave you
One more time, oh, let me kiss you
And close your eyes and I'll be on my way
It's liberating, in a way. To not feel constrained to the world of social connection to the United States. To only be connected to those you are in front of. To learn from others what you never knew about yourself. That's why I'm doing it, afterall. To learn about others, to learn about myself, and to help preserve the right for everyone to have that opportunity without a preventable illness getting in their way.
Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times that I won't have to say ...
So, yes. In about 40 or so hours I will be leaving on a
I think.
(Obviously John Denver's version of this song is the best, regardless of the hokey video that comes with it.)
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