I am sitting in a coffee shop in Sioux Falls, pulled to prolong my stay until I able to tap out a few words.
For the past two weeks, I’ve been traveling, visiting friends and stuffing myself full of terrible, delicious foods. It’s time to go home now and start the process of leaving.
Through the long stretches of highway and bustling airports, my travels have been set to a soundtrack of worry about Lesotho and going back to the Peace Corps. What if I don’t mesh with the other volunteers? What if it’s so different that I don’t like it? What if my longing to go back to the Peace Corps is just longing for Niger and the life I can’t have there? Am I ready? Should I really be doing this? Can I make it?
Doubt was so present in these conversations with myself that I really feared I may be making a mistake. Leaving the second time doesn’t have the same type of fanfare and saying goodbye again seems so much harder. Tears are forming in my eyes as I write this because I am genuinely scared, and it doesn’t feel like the good type of scared.
Yet, this morning, I woke up after a fabulous evening with friends, which was preceded by a pretty amazing two weeks with wonderful hosts. As I recalled the evening’s events, I realized that this ending was appropriate and the fears I carried were no longer present. Suddenly, I was so sure about this upcoming adventure as if I never held a hesitation. It’s time, I thought.
The next few weeks will mot likely contain doubt and worry, but I am sure I felt that way a year ago. Yes, it will be difficult, but that’s part of why I am doing it. But what I’ve realized through this time wandering and visiting those that I love is that this is me. This is what I should be doing.
My coffee is almost gone and I miss my parents. I am ready to return to Pierre and begin the end.