Here we are at 11:00 am on Monday, and somehow, almost everything is packed. All that remains are the clothes we are wearing and a few toiletries that will find their way into our bags tomorrow before we head out. There is a quiet sense of completion in the room, as if the suitcases themselves are resting, waiting patiently for the final zip.
Later this afternoon, we will head over to TJ and Sarah’s home for a barbecue, one last gathering with them before we leave. Tammy will be there, along with Tracy and Vincent, and I already know it will be one of those visits where you try to stay present while acknowledging that goodbye is approaching. These moments always feel a little heavier, even when filled with laughter and familiar conversation.
Tomorrow morning, Greg will stop by the hotel after returning from his weekend away with Heather. They were in Chicago to attend her daughter Hannah’s graduation, and it will be so good to see him, even if only briefly. There is something meaningful about those final visits, those last hugs, those fulfilling reassurances that distance does not diminish connection.
My dear friend Chere stopped by for a few hours yesterday morning, and we moaned over how little time we had together during this visit. Cherie and Gary travel a lot, too, but we always manage to stay in touch, as with my dear friend Karen in Florida and many other dear friends throughout the world.
Our flight to Atlanta is scheduled for 4:09 in the afternoon. We will likely arrive at the airport around 1:00 to return the rental car and check in, giving ourselves plenty of time to move through the process without feeling rushed. It is the beginning of a long few travel days that will eventually carry us across the ocean on that sixteen-hour flight to Johannesburg. In total, we’ll be traveling for roughly 34 hours, plus the 11-hour layover in Johannesburg and the 90-minute drive to Marloth Park, resulting in almost a full two-day journey.
Yesterday, though, brought a different kind of reality. By early afternoon, my head was pounding, and my face hurt, where my sinuses are located, every time I moved. I finally accepted what had been lingering in the background for days. After more than a month of dealing with RSV and pneumonia, it became clear that a sinus infection had taken hold. It made no sense to ignore it, especially with such a long journey ahead.
The wait at Chanhassen Urgent Care stretched to almost three hours. I suggested to Tom that he head back to the hotel rather than sit there with me, and he agreed. He dropped me off at 1:30, and by the time we were both back in the room again, it was close to 5:00, after we picked up the prescription for antibiotics, which is another five-day course of the same medication I had taken for the pneumonia.
I have now taken two doses, one last night and one this morning, and already I feel the difference. It is remarkable how quickly relief can come once you begin addressing what is wrong. Packing this morning felt entirely different from what it would have been yesterday. Instead of struggling through each movement, I was able to focus, organize, and move forward with purpose.
We have come to realize that we can pack everything in about three hours. There was a time when I would fuss over it for days, carefully considering every item, every possibility. Now, it feels simpler, more intuitive. The only exception is Marloth Park, where I gather nonperishable food items, along with a few pans and kitchen supplies, which remain there for our use, and Louise stores them for us.
When we arrive, Vusi and Zef will have already delivered the bins and our camp chairs, the ones we use when we sit by the river. They will also bring the items we ordered online, including Tom’s favorite Lion beer and low-carb Prosecco for me. It always feels a bit surreal that these small comforts are waiting for us, even so far from where we began.
I find myself thinking about those first evenings back, when we settle onto the veranda with a drink in hand, watching the wildlife as it comes and goes. In South Africa, adult beverages at sundown are called “sundowners,” and they hold a kind of peace that is difficult to describe, often enjoyed with our many friends in the bush. There are so many reasons, along with the wildlife, that remind me why we return, again and again.
I will miss Norman. That absence will be felt in ways I cannot quite put into words. But I also know that, in time, new connections will form. The bush has a way of filling your heart again, often when you least expect it.
Life there is not always gentle. There are harsh realities that exist alongside the beauty, and they are impossible to ignore. Yet somehow, it is within that balance that we find meaning. It is not perfect, but it is real, and that has always been enough.
If we can, we’ll post again tomorrow during our layover in Atlanta, which you will see much later than our usual posting time.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, June 8, 2016:
