Torn

The warmth on my cheek contradicts the chills that mark the uncertainty that is just settling in. We are starting our dissent into Washington. I should have been on a flight back to Kabul tomorrow. But life has a way of throwing itself at us.

I marvel at a series of events a half a world away determining my future. It makes me realize what control others have in directing our life paths. I like to think that I’m independent in creating my own life path, but times like this remind me of how interlinked our lives are. How much power outside events have on where we end up.

I got the call on election day. It was mid-afternoon and I’d just managed to tick the last thing off my list. I was officially ready to return to Kabul and start my new job.

It was really a series of quirks that set USAID off in a tizzy. The end result was that they didn’t approve my appointment on the project. Just like that that I’m out of job.

Not heading back into Kabul.

At least for the moment. Despite the ever declining security conditions, I have not yet had a chance to let go of that torn country. It leaves me feeling torn myself. Longing for the life experiences that I was enjoying so much there, and also cognizant of the risk that I was taking in pursuing my dreams and following my heart.

Now I’m headed back into another belly of the beast. At least the outcomes of the election were such that living in Washington will be another place altogether with Obama.

I’m of course delighted to be back with my dear husband James. But also a bit apprehensive of stepping back into a life that has ceased to exist for some time. There will be remnants of the past, but then we are never the same.

Miel