Red Wine

After a bottle of bad red airline wine, I feel … mellow, or is it quiet? Perhaps content? Whatever it is, I am thoroughly embracing it, slouching comfortably in my seat, on the verge of drifting into much-needed sleep. Strangely calm, I am holding thoughts of the significant changes my life is about to assume at bay. That’ll come. I just have to worry about the now.

I’m not worried or stressed or anxious. And maybe I should be entering the complete unknown on the other side of the world. Mostly I’m just eager to explore a whole new construct of reality so different than my own. I want to interpret malaria under the microscope, weigh babies on fabric scales, and travel with the nurses two hours on rutty roads to spend fifteen minutes administering vaccines in a remote village. I want to learn a paradigm of medicine unlike any I’ve witnessed, stories of survival and perseverance and making the most of what one has. I want to hike among waterfalls, safari among giraffes, and stretch out for long naps under the sun.

So, today was so long, Iowa, and goodbye, Detroit. In the morning, I’ll wake up in Amsterdam. And tomorrow night, I will finally be able to say hello, Africa. How incredible will that be.