letting go

I'd like to reflect for a moment on the process leading up to Peace Corps service.  When I expresed frustration about the interminable wait for an assignment my recruiter reminded me that all over the world people are waiting, spending hours in lines, sitting on buses until there were enough riders to leave,  watching for the rain to end or the rain to start.  The message was that we Westerners need to acquire the patience required to wait.  But there is a use for the time between application and the flight out.  The wait to leave is about letting go.  You can't leave without doing some of that.

Last week I entrusted my 13 year old dog Pete to the good care of my neice. I've had Pete since he was a pup.  Letting go of him is the last in a long line of renunciations, both large and small, which began with the decision to volunteer.  To say yes to PC service is to turn away from the other options which, in my case, retirement offered.  I don't mean this to sound like a sacrifice.  The PC was the best option, as far as I was concerned, and once I decided on it, there was no problem letting go of the others.

I let go of my house when I rented it, let go of the garden I had been bringing along, let go of the rooms I carefully decorated, let go of my kind neighbors, the mailman, the New York Times home delivery.  Surprising how often a leave-taking brought a pleasant intimacy.  The mailman and I had a long conversation about what each of us were doing with our lives.  My tenants, a Rwandan family, and I became friends.  I'm invited to Rwanda after I return from Nicaragua.

I had time for the Rwandan relationship to develop because I rented the house, for reasons too long to go into here, in June and staging is at the end of August.  I left the house with 2 large suitcases, a backpack, a daypack and 4 cardboard boxes.  And Pete.  All this stuff was the prodect of a hurried removel from the house and indecision about what to bring.  Luckily, homeless, Pete and I housesat for a month during which time I reduced my belonings to the contents of 2 suitcases, 2 packs and 2 boxes.  I spent another week housesitting for another friend and after that week, I was down to 1 suitcase, one backpack, a daypack and two boxes. Now, two weeks before staging, I've gotten rid of the boxes.  I'm culling through the suitcase to lighten the load.  I have never felt better.  Letting go is the best.

That's about stuff, however.   Luckily, I don't have to let go of friends and family.  Homeless for 2 months, I've had plenty of time to travel to see the people who matter most to me. They promise to write me.  Some promise to come visit and I think they will.  I don't have to let go of the people.  We're just taking a break.  Pete, however, is another matter.  He's 13. That's a hard one.