leaving

“Koko,” I thought I heard coming from outside. Huh? I looked at the clock. 6:42 am. Seriously?

Everything in the house has been sold, and the small voice outside was coming round to pick the last of it. The concrete walls echoed as I stumbled out of bed – not that I’d been asleep for some time, but lying in bed was an act of optimism seeking a few more minutes of rest.

I folded up my sleeping bag and she collected my bed, extracting it from piles of luggage and a few things yet to be wrapped and shipped. The truck left, and I finished pulling things together. I showered by draining a bottle over my head, as our water was out yet again. Appropriate for my last morning, somehow.

I don’t much care for the house I’ve lived in these past 14 months, but this morning it was hard to leave. I felt pulled back, longing for something that’s already gone. It’s the end of an era, my housemate said a few days ago. I suppose he’s right.

So in a few hours I get on a plane, flying to Zimbabwe for my sister’s wedding. It’s a perfect ending for my time here. But flying straight on to a new life in Boston next Wednesday is still a little daunting.

Finally moving towards the car, I stopped in the dust and called to the remaining cat. Crazy, we call him. Crazy was here before us and will be here for some time after we’re gone. Crazy doesn’t really get along well with other living creatures, but I called out anyway. Lying in the sun, he squinted at me. Meowed. I called again. And he turned his head away.