The countdown has begun. The problem is, I'm not sure at what number to begin the countdown! We have a reservation (not a booking) for a flight on Friday, but we still have no word about our immigration documents for Gabon. Yes, today is Tuesday.
I've been sorting and packing, planning and organizing, while Isabella crawls all over unsorting, unpacking, and disorganizing. Yes, SHE is on the move too, quite literally, and with quite a lot of determination and speed. She took to crawling quickly and shortly after decided that standing and walking are definitely the preferred mode of ambulation, and she keeps trying with true grit and persistence. So, often my packing takes a backseat to picking up and dusting off after a tumble, cuddling after one of many self-inflicted bumps on the head, or playing referee between Isabella and Koshka (our cat), whom Bella follows around relentlessly. For her part, Koshka has been a feline saint - putting up with numerous yanks, grabs, and all too-excited pats, accompanied by ear-piercing shrieks of delight. She has never snapped or taken out the claws, and more often than not, rather than running away or jumping up out of reach, she just stands her ground or lays there and takes it. Which, if you ask me, should probably be chalked up to either stubbornness or stupidity, rather than saintliness.
And so, we wait. We wait for word from our contact in Gabon about whether or not our immigration documents are ready for our planned departure IN FOUR DAYS. We pack up and put away, and tie up loose ends, with the expectation that we will not be here this weekend. Yet, because of this uncertainty, in the back of my mind there lingers the feeling that, "we're not REALLY leaving" yet. Saying our goodbyes haven't been true goodbyes, but "goodbye in case we don't see you again before we go".
We wait, as I savour wearing a fleece on the chilly mornings and evenings while checking the forecast for Libreville and mentally preparing for THIS.
So who knows? Next time you hear from me I could be writing from just north of the Equator. Or....maybe not.
I've been sorting and packing, planning and organizing, while Isabella crawls all over unsorting, unpacking, and disorganizing. Yes, SHE is on the move too, quite literally, and with quite a lot of determination and speed. She took to crawling quickly and shortly after decided that standing and walking are definitely the preferred mode of ambulation, and she keeps trying with true grit and persistence. So, often my packing takes a backseat to picking up and dusting off after a tumble, cuddling after one of many self-inflicted bumps on the head, or playing referee between Isabella and Koshka (our cat), whom Bella follows around relentlessly. For her part, Koshka has been a feline saint - putting up with numerous yanks, grabs, and all too-excited pats, accompanied by ear-piercing shrieks of delight. She has never snapped or taken out the claws, and more often than not, rather than running away or jumping up out of reach, she just stands her ground or lays there and takes it. Which, if you ask me, should probably be chalked up to either stubbornness or stupidity, rather than saintliness.
And so, we wait. We wait for word from our contact in Gabon about whether or not our immigration documents are ready for our planned departure IN FOUR DAYS. We pack up and put away, and tie up loose ends, with the expectation that we will not be here this weekend. Yet, because of this uncertainty, in the back of my mind there lingers the feeling that, "we're not REALLY leaving" yet. Saying our goodbyes haven't been true goodbyes, but "goodbye in case we don't see you again before we go".
We wait, as I savour wearing a fleece on the chilly mornings and evenings while checking the forecast for Libreville and mentally preparing for THIS.
So who knows? Next time you hear from me I could be writing from just north of the Equator. Or....maybe not.
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