As excited as I am to be headed off on an African adventure, there is no escaping the dreaded word goodbye.
Fact: goodbyes are the worst. For the last few months I have been happily stressing out about every other aspect of the Peace Corps preparation stage—from paperwork, immunizations, physicals, and dental x-rays to new purchases (like a nifty head lamp), and the selling or storing of everything I already own. I have had a suitcase partially packed for 3 months. Who does that? A neurotic person, that’s who. Add to that the time I’ve spent researching Peace Corps/Rwanda and attempting to teach myself some vocab in the local language, and I have basically been making myself a nervous wreck. But I have not forgotten some important advice I got from a former Peace Corps volunteer to spend as much time with friends and family as possible before leaving. So I’ve done just that with my Boston crew—bonding with Lara and David’s beautiful new baby and living it up at the fabulous going away party they threw me. Sharing laughs over a beer with Lisa as she re-counted some recent Match.com dates gone awry. Visiting the lemurs at Franklin Park Zoo with Dave. Hiking with Tyler after a 6-egg omelet…not a great life choice to eat a 6-egg omelet before a hike by the way. lol Sharing in my friend Kate and (her hubby Nick’s) current pregnancy updates over burgers and fries at Shake Shack.
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Dalia, Lara (Mommy), and me |
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Good food and friends at my going-away (Thanks, DiCrescenzos!) |
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In the Noanet Woodlands |
All the while, I’ve been postponing that awful word goodbye. Until Wednesday when my office threw me
a send-off complete with taco dip, cake, a PowerPoint presentation set
to James Taylor’s “You Got a Friend,” and a riveting game of Rwanda-themed
Jeopardy. You’d be hard pressed to find a more epic office going-away party.
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Good luck cake from my cohorts at EDC |
Time to face the fact that goodbyes are in order. Today is my last day of work and then Saturday I am headed to NJ to spend 2 weeks with the fam. But I've decided to wrap my goodbyes in the promise of postcards and Skype dates. Because it's not like I'm going to Mars. It's Africa, and I will be back. And I will most certainly harass all of you in the U.S. to write me letters and send along things I might not be able to get in Rwanda like stick deodorant and Big Macs. Ok, so maybe that second one can't go air mail, but at least eat a Big Mac in my honor.