i still wake up in the morning thinking i am in africa. i wake up hopeful. hopeful that i will hear the roster crowing. hopeful that i can eat fresh mango and pineapple. hopeful that i can have my quiet time under the palm trees.
i still wake up wishing that i could harvest another fish farm. the muck and the mud between my toes. the joy on the peoples faces watching a white woman try to catch a catfish with her hands. i still wake up hopeful. hopeful that i can feel the heat of africa on my back. hopeful that i can hold another sick child.
i still wake up hopeful that i can work to bring clean water to a village. i still am hopeful that i will be able to pray with a woman beaten and raped from the war. i still wake up hopeful. i still wake up thinking i can make a difference.