Farewell to Africa

We're packing. Our life here fits into 2 large suitcases, 2 large duffle bags, 1 small suitcase, 2 carry-ons, and 1 personal item. It seems to be less than we came with, but we know we've accumulated more since we've been here. Can't explain it. One of our carry-ons is full of warm clothes to pile on when we arrive in New York's predicted 32 degree high. In Africa it's sunny and warm with a slight breeze to keep things comfortable. It's perfect. But we are so looking forward to the imperfect. It doesn't feel like Christmas is 2 days away when we're wearing shorts to the zoo and swimming with friends just a few days before. We want sweatshirts. We want hot chocolate. We want crackling fires, big cozy blankets, and cuddling. We want FAMILY. And we feel so blessed that we're going to get it. We fly out Christmas Eve and arrive in NY Christmas morning. Thanks to one of the most incredible ladies ever, our apartment will be stocked with {American!} food to get us through the day and a Christmas present from Santa for Bryn (not to mention a ride home from the airport on Christmas morning!). The next day we'll board our flight to CA (apparently 18 hours of flying the day before just isn't enough for us) to visit our families. We pretty much feel like this about it all: We've had an experience of a lifetime here in Africa. We've been able to do and see all that we wanted (much left to blog). We've met wonderful people and made lasting friendships. But every international experience I've had results in the same two appreciations: (1) an appreciation for the people and culture of the new place I've visited; and (2) an even greater appreciation to be a citizen and permanent resident of The United States of America. I love it. I can't wait to be back. So farewell, Africa. Farewell.