I'm standing on the end of my dock, on the edge of the lake, staring into its depths. I can't see to the bottom, but I know the sand is waiting for me. I'm bracing for the cold, unable to stroke my pinky toe into the water to test the temperature. The temperature of the water remains a mystery--all I know is that it's very different from the warm air wrapped around me. I glance longingly at the steady dock behind me, wondering if it's even worth it to jump in. But then the breeze whisks the warm frommy shoulders, and I imagine all the lake holds. The swells of the lake will eventually bring me back to the dock again, but in a very different state. In the same way that my smooth fingers will crumple into wrinkled prunes before easing into normality once more, I will adjust to the environment I find in Morocco. Then, a short ten months later, I'll readjust to my home in the States.
Though this metaphor may be wrought with cliches, it speaks for the emotions I'm experiencing during my last day in the United States for quite some time. I cannot imagine what a swim this next journey will be, but I trust that I'm ready to stop fighting the currents of change and adapt to them. And as inviting as the shore looks, I'm jumping it.
I'll see you all, my beloved family and friends, on the other side of the this adventure. But for now, the water awaits. With love from an airplane somewhere between here and Rabat!*
*Due to the wonders of Blogspot, I was able to write this post in advance and schedule its publishing. The next time I post, this truly will be "writings from Rabat."
No comments:
Post a Comment