Monday, November 14, 2005

...but the journey has just begun!

Last night I dreamt I was in Africa. It was the third time this week.

I arrive at the Hadassah School nervous--would they remember me? Or, more specifically, would they remember how much in love we had been with each other?--and the kids emerge from their classrooms and come charging at me with hugs. Let the dancing began! How different this second visit was from the first when their entrance into the dirt courtyard had been so shy and hesitant!

I saw Abraham standing by the doorway (haha, like in this week's parsha!) of the nursery room (oh). He was avoiding my stare; I could tell he was as nervous as I was. I made my way through the crowd, knowing that I would have to make the first move. When I approached him, I picked him up, squeezed him, and twirled him around. He finally looked me in the eye, we paused for a moment, and then we both began to laugh. We laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed till tears were running down all our cheeks and we had to sit down.

Did I ever tell you about Abraham?

Throughout Africa, I tried to include stories of Abraham in my emails. I tried to explain how he had touched my life. But in the end, all the words were deleted. Not only could I not explain this angel of a little boy, but I could not even explain how I could not even explain.

Uch--what has come over me?! I have lost my flair! I've melted into a puddle of moldy sap, getting warm and sticky on my expensive finished, hard-wood floors.

In a land flowing with caffeine, vitamin water, and money, I sit in my $2850/month apartment (not including utilities and cable) and complain about my looks. My black leather boots are too high, the sole on my red suede boots is a bit low. My skirts are too loose and my pants are too tight. My hips are too big, my breasts too small, my eyes are too wide, and my hair too tall. And I'm getting a cold. And I'm getting old. And don't even let me get started about boys...

Well I certainly just killed the mood. I'll write more later.


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