Life's a beach...

Last morning in Ghana.

I’m heading towards a hurricane in a few hours. How fitting. I was hoping to outrun the chaos by coming here and now I seem to be heading straight for it. I’m certainly better prepared, as a result.

I’m leaving my peace corps experience with only good feelings and gratitude.

I’ll continue to write, whether here or in other capacities.

Now I must hurry, I heard the only thing on time in Ghana are the departing airplanes.

Visiting Mandy…

If I could paint a picture of the brightest colors, to show you what I’ve seen, it would still be a disgrace because you couldn’t taste the salt water mist, feel the ocean breeze on your sunburned shoulders, and hear the waves crashing.

If I could perch you on a star, high above the earth, you’d see four women, diverse in age (25-60) yet all in their prime, playing like children in the late evening surf.

A fire on the beach, fresh brewed tea, skinning dipping like little children at bath time.

We sat each morning at the peaceful intersection where the river dances with the ocean, where cold water meets the sun’s shadow. We watched the fisherman send out the nets and brings them back, pulling against the ocean’s current for hours.

We walked through the village of sea farers, seemingly the oldest people that ever lived, mild and peaceful, bathing in the river, smiling at the four white ladies trying not to gawk at the grown men in the water.

We cooked together and ate together and laughed together in the way that only women really know how and then we parted ways, just like the tide stretching back to its mid-day home, leaving thousands of memories like scattered seashells across the sand of my memory, forever imprinted.

Thank you, Mandy, Terri and Janet for such an amazing send off. We will meet again.