Nostalgia

The sky was bright but the rain fell steadily, pattering softly on the roof and I sat inside insulated from the cold dampness. Slippers on, cozy in my hoodie. Something about today made me want to be back in Tanzania. Maybe it was reading about flooding in Africa on the BBC news, or the frustration of running around doing nothing at work today, who knows. Maybe its the rain.

The memories so vivid. Breeze blowing through tall grass on the plains, clouds rolling across the hills. Bright green maize sprouting in rows of dark brown earth. Women in the fields, weeding, children on their backs. Visitors, always visitors. Children holding my hand, doing homework on the cool cement floor of my living room/kitchen, kicking the soccer ball out in front of my house. Surrounded by people. Walking down dusty paths to visit people, flip flops reassuringly slapping my heels with each step. Shared chai, scalding my mouth, ginger warming my throat. When it rained I couldn't hear my roommate Atu over the thundering on the metal roof. Water seeped under the door and earwigs fell from the roof. No insulation from life. Every moment was about being, not doing. I learned how to fully appreciate the present, not regretting the past or worrying about the future. "Time is not passing, it is coming."

The rain petered out as the sun set and transformed the low-lying clouds over Vancouver into delicious golden peaches and oranges. We slurped noodles on the front porch watching bikers whiz by and dogs pull their humans out for evening strolls. The long long distance from Tanzania isn't just geographical but living in the present seemed like it was infinitely possible in the moment as the moon rose and the light faded. So tomorrow I'll got back to the same hospital with the same people, but I'll try to be instead of do.