It’s Thursday morning. I am 36 hours from departure, and my heart is in my throat. I just heard Seal and Paul go downstairs for a bottle…that would be a bottle of milk, not a bottle of booze. Seal in the morning is adorable…fresh and ready to face the day, a little slow in warming up to anyone who isn’t Mama or Papa or Ba, but always, he is eager and curious and engaged with the world.
Although time is passing rapidly, we’ve not been graced with a hassle-free life week. The brakes went out on the car and the week has been packed with meetings, so we’ve been transiting by taxi, which is a life-threatening experience in itself. The generator has continued to break down, producing an enormous headache for Paul, who really wants his family to be comfortably living with the modern conveniences of the 21st century with refrigeration and television and a mixing board for his studio. And air conditioning!
I’ve wanted these last few days to be easy, effortless, memorable. They will be memorable because they were just like all the other days…the days came and went, with good news and bad, with laughter and with tears, with demands and relaxation, with greeting new friends and with letting old friends go, with sure knowledge that this part of my life is ending but faith that another part is beginning.
Oh my…when I wrote those words, I felt my heat slam against my chest.
So I’m going to take a page from the experience of living here with Seal. Today I have the sure faith and absolute confidence that my life is perfect. There is enough of everything, exactly the right amount of time for everything I do, everyone I know, every place I am. I will have what I have.
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