Cracks

After I filled my bucket at the pump, I hoisted it onto the top of brick frame as an easier transition to my head than the ground. I put a little too much oomph into the gesture and cracked the bottom.

Later, I was rearranging my dishes and dropped my favorite ceramic mug, really only ceramic mug. A healthy cracked shot up the side.

An unlucky day, but breaks happen. That’s life.

Yet, it’s these little blows that can lead a good mood to a bad one. Now, I have to buy a new mug and a new bucket with the little money I get for food and other basic necessities – an amount that always seems stretched. Till I get paid next, at the end of the month, I will have to rely on one bucket, meaning daily trips to the pump, and an aluminum cup that looks like a prop from a scene of cowboys around a fire in an old Western.

Maybe I am overly emotional, which is a strong possibility, but I think many PCVs, in any country, get moments when setbacks feel like major life changes. We live without so much compared to how we were raised that we come to depend on the few things we do have. When they are gone, it feels like the universe is personally punishing us. If I get this worked up over bucket, heaven forbid if my iPod breaks. (Please universe, don’t take my iPod.) (Note: The universe took my iPod, see earlier post.)

Then, when I come down from ledge, I realize how silly I am being. Sure, my favorite mug is gone but I still have the comforting tea a friend sent and isn’t that more important than whatever device I use to drink it out of? Yes, it is.

As I learn to let these little things go, I am getting better at the bigger stuff. So, my students didn’t do their homework. OK, I just ran out of gas and it is dinnertime. And I bought a bus ticket for the wrong day.

I like to think that when I re-enter civilization, with calmer emotions (Please universe, let me have calmer emotions) I will be a pro at letting things go. Just as long as I have a good mug.

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