two weeks

It's been two years since I last walked the streets of Monrovia, Liberia in West Africa. As I get ready to return in two weeks I can't help but wonder about the things that will have changed. It will be my first time there without Jumah. It will be my first time staying at our building in Sinkor instead of at ACFI. How many people will be gone? How many are now in the US? Will the improvements the government is struggling to make be noticeable?

In someways I feel as if I'm going somewhere new. And yet I can't wait to breathe in the hot moist air and the smells that are so foreign to America. Its weird that somewhere so volatile, so different from home, can bring a sense of calm and even comfort. Maybe things will be different this time. I don't know. I won't know until I step off that plane onto the tarmac.

So I count the days. In two weeks I'll be making last minute preps for my morning flight. Spending a few quiet moments with Sara. Checking on my sleeping kids every half hour just to watch them sleep. Even thinking about it right now has me all teary eyed. I hate goodbyes.

Two weeks...