Goodbye

I really wanted my first post to be about hunting lions, drinking cow’s blood, or eating giraffe meat, and I hate writing about anything sentimental, but this feels like the right place to start. I hope this post doesn’t read like the moral at the end of a shitty sitcom. If you have an image of me as a tough guy or an easygoing person, please stop reading now. Or maybe keep going.

            Last night my dad told me he was going to bed, and he would be gone before I left in the morning. I gave him a hug and he wished me luck and told me not to take any unnecessary risks. I just mumbled something about how fast this whole thing has come and he went upstairs. Before that I hadn’t thought about it. I’m going to Kenya. I’m going to Kenya. I went upstairs and laid face down in my bed. My head was spinning. I wasn’t nervous before because I hadn’t been living it. It’s easy to think about going to Kenya. It’s easy to think about not seeing your parents for 4 months or not seeing your friends for 6 or 7 months. It’s easy to think about living in a village in Africa or going to a place where I will stick out, but I’m getting on a plane to go live that. I won’t see my family again for 4 months.

            I’m not getting cold feet; I want to do this and I’m excited, but for lack of a better way of saying it, I’m scared as shit. Hopefully as the program gets into swing I can shift my perspective towards what I’m gaining by going to Kenya, but right now I’m only thinking of what I’m leaving behind. Yesterday, via facebook, I asked everyone to tell me what they wanted as a souvenir. I got a bunch of answers and most of them were jokes, but I’m going to miss that, and you guys, a lot.

            In all seriousness, it’s hard to think about what your family or friends mean to you. I’ve never done it until now, when thinking about it has kind of been forced upon me.  Sorry if you’ve waded through my sentimental bullshit and actually read all the way to here, and I feel a lot better after writing this. Hopefully the next post will be about catching poachers or learning how to use a blow gun.

Love you mom,

Aaron