Sylvia's Journal

My head is spinning this morning with thoughts about getting ready for a month absence. I woke up exactly 12 hours before my plane is supposed to take off from Logan; this is not much time in which to finish packing for two different countries/continents/climates/assignments, hold an hour-long coaching conversation with Oumar in Guinea by phone, have a massage, do all my back ups, and get centered.

Yesterday was my last day in the office for an entire month and was therefore crammed full of meetings. During the periods in between meetings I started to think about cleaning out my corner of the office and my desk with its accumulated stuff from 22 years.

This includes many course binders and small gifts that visitors and returning colleagues have brought me over the years. I do not want to bring those home or to Afghanistan and so I played Santa Claus a little: Karen got the stuffed lemur because she was with the Peace Corps in Madagascar; Erin got the binders from the first training of trainers course that launched me in my current career, more than 20 years ago, because she likes organizational psychology. Meghann got the map of Afghanistan in lapis and other colored stones because she lived there and Nina got the Azerbaijani dolls because she is from that part of the world. There is more, much more, but I had no time to think through who is to get what. The gift has to fit someone.

I had a phone consultation with a tax accountant about what I need to be aware of as we change residence. The MSH office had provided me with IRS informational booklets with such dense legalese that I needed a specialist to understand the key points. I am only slightly wiser now and need another such conversation. At least I now know the questions to ask.

After nearly 11 hours in the office it took me another two to get home. For some reason, when it rains, the traffic gets unhinged. And when it rains for a week the traffic gets unhinged even more. I crawled home at a snail’s pace in the old car with its broken radio and with nothing to nosh on except toothpicks. Being stuck in traffic with someone else, or having something to listen to is manageable; but without that two hours is excruciatingly long and most boring. I called home to whine but was asked to leave a message which does not have the same effect as having Axel’s voice encouraging me by telling me what waiting for me at home. I was also very hungry and my right foot was hurting – it does not like stop-and-go traffic.

In Afghanistan there are traffic jams too but at least I will be chauffeured, always in company. I can practice my Dari on the driver and peek out into the city I am not allowed to walk around in on foot.