“Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection.”

Late yesterday afternoon, the thunder and lightning were spectacular. I stood at the front door and watched. The house shook a couple of times and I could hear the rumbling all around me. The rain came down hard but didn’t last as long I’d hoped. What it did do, however, was even better. It took all the humidity with it and left us with a much cooler evening. I turned off the AC and opened all the windows and the two doors. It was easy to fall asleep.

This morning dawned cool and cloudy. Gracie is loving having the back door open as she has access to her dog door and can come and go as she pleases. She’s been outside all morning. I even joined her for a while. From the open windows, I can hear the world for the first time in days. Gone is the solitude. Some kid is screaming, and the renters next door are having a conversation. Dogs are barking, and I can hear the click of Gracie’s collar as she runs around the yard. She joins the chorus of barkers every now and then to let them know she’s here.

Yesterday I got a call from Texas, from a Ghanaian living there now who attended Women’s Training College in Bolga. She started there the year after I had left so we were never acquainted. Assan got my number when she went back to Bolga and thought she’d connect. It was a wonderful conversation. She knows many of my former students who were her seniors. She explained the reason she called was to apologize about missing the big reunion late this summer. I didn’t even know there was going to be one. It seems the students I met last year have been rallying the troops to come this summer to Bolga while I’ll be there. They’re hoping to have a huge party. I think it’s wonderful.

Grace called me from Ghana yesterday, and she sang Leaving on a Jet Plane, Miss Ryan’s song. She told me she was counting the days until my arrival and can hardly wait. She’ll come north with me and we’ll do a bit of touring as I hope to make a few stops in the Volta Region, places I have wanted to see like the Volta Lake, the dam and the monkey sanctuary. She’ll also stay with Francisca and me in the village.

My passport came back yesterday with my Ghanaian visa. I got one for multiple re-entries which is good for two years so this time so it won’t expire before I leave the way it did last year. The trip is more than a month away, but I am really getting excited to go. This time I know I’ll see my students and I’ll get to live in the village. Even better, we’ll party!

“A good holiday is one spent among people whose notions of time are vaguer than yours.”

Steam rose from the wet bark of the pine tree earlier this morning as the sun moved across the morning sky, and its warmth reached the bark. Today is the sort of fall day when outside is warmer than inside. The deck is bathed in sunlight. As is my wont, I stood for a while outside to take measure of the day. I noticed my neighbor has strung red and blue balloons around his deck. At four o’clock this afternoon is the party for his three year old son, and I’ve been invited. Sebastian, my neighbor, has asked me twice to make sure I’m coming. I have a feeling the party might be a bit like every evening when I sat in the living room of my Ghanaian father’s house in Bawku. The room was filled with people who spoke Hausa, and I understood very little. I just nodded my head and smiled a lot. Sebastian and his family are Brazilians, and when they are together or have company, I hear Portuguese more than I hear English. I suspect I’ll be nodding and smiling a lot.

I have been combing through travel sites looking for a place to go this fall, but nothing has piqued my interest. When air fares are posted mid-week, I look for a flight to somewhere exotic, to somewhere a bit different. I remember getting off the plane in Marrakesh and smelling unfamiliar spices in the air. I remember the trip from the airport when I first saw the ancient pink wall surrounding the old part of the city and  calishes traveling along the sides of the roads. I remember smiling and waving at the passengers. I knew I had chosen well. I want that same feeling again.