I hate the last week

I hate the last week before we go back to Mali. It is crammed with so many things- cramming thoughts in my head of what I need to do, people I need to see, and cramming stuff in bags to take back. There's no way around it, I suppose, so I've learned (and am still learning) how to navigate myself as calmly and peacefully as possible.

But as evidence by the fact I wrote this blog post in my head in the middle of the night, it doesn't always work. My mind is on overdrive whether I like it or not.

What is interesting to me in this week is the conflict of emotions and thoughts I feel. I am ready to go back to our home, to my bed, my things, my animals, my friends. I've been ready for a long time. Our hearts are there but the week before, my feet start dragging on the floor. It's like the end of a vacation and the dread of returning back to reality, even if reality isn't that bad.

I want to be home. I love what we do. I love being there. But being there means we aren't here. And it is hard to say goodbye. We leave comforts, a language we understand, a culture we understand, drive through restaurants, parks, the American dream, and of course, family and friends. We go back to a culture we don't understand, languages we barely understand, no parks, no restaurants, no grocery stores (in our town), no conveniences like we have here.

I want to go back to the friends who have become family to us, whether that being Malian or ex-pats. This time more than ever I will be saying goodbye to friends I have made or rekindled. As the years have gone on, I've felt less connected to friends in the States since time and space change things. However, there have been true connections with people who just get it, get our life, get our struggles and it has been incredibly refreshing. They will be hard to leave. The boys have made friends here as well. Though they look forward to seeing their friends in Mali, they will miss the friends they have made here.

I also struggle with my lasts. Making sure I see people for the last time but then feeling overwhelmed and silently hoping that I don't even get to say goodbye at all. No matter how long we are in the States, people often wait until the last week or so to want to get together. So we cram in visits and meals and whatever to catch up. I internally want my boys to have great lasts, one more time with this person, or one more chance to do this or that so then maybe they will feel complete and happy when going back. I am reminded, though, that lasts often aren't that great and one more visit with a person won't make them any more special or the memories any sweeter. I need to be content in what has taken place and have peace to move forward.

I often fight against my inner mommy feelings of guilt that I take my children from here to there and shake their sense of normalcy on a regular basis. I feel guilty that they don't have a children's program at a church to go to or even many kids their age, if at all in Mali. Yet, I listen to their words and am assured that these anxious thoughts are only that-thoughts in my head, not reality. They long to go HOME, to their animals and their friends. They want their good Malian bread and Jeremie's cooking (ha!). They want their toys and to be in their beds with the bed nets that D says makes him feel safe. I asked K where he would live if he could live anywhere and he said, "Africa!" He has also decided this week that when he grows up he wants to work in a hospital in Africa because "there are a lot of sick people and not many doctors." He then said, "Maybe I could even build a hospital." D was for this as long as he could be a vet and in Africa. :) So whatever my fears or concerns are, they certainly aren't legitimate. My boys are loving where they are and see nothing wrong with the way their life is going at present. It's not my normal, but it is theirs and that brings them comfort.

In a few days this week will be over as well our time at home in the US. We will take all our bags, board the plane and go to our other home where time moves slower, everything and everyone is covered in dirt, inconvenience is a part of life and our hearts are full, yet missing the home we've left behind. And though my mind struggles with all these conflicting feelings, this is the life I love. I wouldn't trade it for anything.