Change

Our lives consist of a long, unbroken string of changes.  We are born, we grow into adulthood, we have children, we grow old, and then we die.  Being human however, we are by nature resistant to any break in stability.  Someone may tell us that life is better on the other side of that door, but really who are they to say?  Things are just fine here, thank you.

And so, we are given transitions to help us deal with changes.  I remember being unsure of being a parent, wary of all of the stress and discomfort and annoyance that comes with children.  However, by the end of my pregnancy I was so uncomfortable that I would do anything to end such a state, even if it involved waking up at odd hours of the night and changing diapers.

Brandon and I are almost done packing.  He is sharpening the knives and I am supposed to be gathering up the odd effects that are still lying around waiting to be shoved into any available space that has a spare pound.  I have been packing, sorting, organizing, purging, weighing, re-packing, and deciding for the last three days.  Previous to that I was completing myriad odd other tasks that come with moving one's life overseas.  And I am in such a state that I will do almost anything to be done with this.  Even move around the globe to a city crammed with 17 million Cairenes, each and every one of which will stare at me with my blond hair every time I step out of my door.

And so, on the eve of the end of this phase in my life, I wonder: Am I nervous?  Afraid?  Wary?  Excited?  No, I'm just tired.  And let Tuesday afternoon bring what it may.  I don't care.