a novel

I am making checklists and packing lists and hostel lists and counting currency exchanges in my head. I am making baking and cooking lists so that my parents have things to eat when I am gone. I am beginning to fret about what I will read on this next leg of my journey - and whether I'll get bored by myself. So much to see in the next 32 days I can hardly imagine. (oh, and I have started a count down until I get to hug my finace again -because as much as I want to be present as I travel, I miss him dearly and want to be home too). This is one my lasts - my last intern day - and that makes the ending seem more real. Before departures I often count my lasts, in a never ending effort to imbue meaning and farewells into what has become typically ordinary. My last half an hour waiting for my taxi. My last round of "good mornings" at the office. My last morning cup of Gahwa (Arabic coffee) while sitting at my desk. And there are all the more from now on. Last Friday night...

Lent. A time of preparation, of thoughtfulness, of intentionality. All words and concepts I love and have reflected on many times. Fasting for lent for me has often been about choosing where to invest energy and about being aware of which energy sources I draw from (sometimes quite literally as our family tradition during my childhood was to give up electrical light for the season). Screen-free Sabbaths, or taking on exercise or spiritual practices are all ways I have been intentional during lent over the past few years. And even the diet related fasting, giving up sugar or caffeine, is an intentional choice about energy sources. Yet this lent I am in a unique place, which is to say that I am not in one place at all. Instead I'm on a very physical journey across many places in the Middle East. And on a journey it is hard to be intentional about little things like diet and routine and chocolate consumption - especially on journeys in foreign countries where one is alone most of t...

I love living with my parents again after 6 years of being a grown up on my own. And I wasn't sure I would actually be saying that halfway through my sojourn with them here in their home-for-now world. But I do. It's comfortable. And challenging. And rewarding. And mostly quiet. Last night Mom and I worked on our second 1000 piece puzzle in two weeks while tuning out (or tuning in) the two films Dad was switching between during commercials. Who else gets that opportunity at 24, 6 months before her wedding, and on a different continent from the one she usually calls home? My days are filled with simple things. Mom's and my morning exercise walk around the park a few blocks away. A short yoga routine for meditation and stretching. cereal or eggs for breakfast. reading while i wait for the taxi to take me to my internship/volunteer placement. i get home each day at least a few hours earlier than my parents and so get to make dinner each night - homemade stew, fresh bre...