Two alarms simultaneously go off, dragging my mind into unwilling wakefulness. I hear Rashidat and Daiva both shuffling around for their phones to silence the ringing. I open my eyes and stare out the window at the foot of my bed. In the light of five AM, I can only just see the outline of the mountain I love greeting me on my final morning here in Albania.
I close my eyes, roll over, and listen to the all too familiar sounds of my sisters getting ready for the day. Though I fight it momentarily, sleep flows in and around me, plunging me under its waves, flitting dreams before my eyes, blending my waking world with my sleeping one.
I see my dog Buster running away toward the mountain and hear Daiva, or maybe it’s Rashidat, saying something to me and there’s a nagging in the back of my head that I need to get up and do something—
Eyes crack open again. Oh, there’s the mountain I love. It’s okay, everything’s okay, the sun’s not even fully risen… yet…
And I feel the softness of the pillow under my head and I dream about a grassy field and bare feet running across it. A friend, smiling. I hear Bliz in the bathroom so there’s no need for me to get up since I won’t be able to get ready yet anyway, and look at the flowers in my hair and the ones in my hands, but wait, there’s something I’m forgetting something I need to—
I jolt out of the beautiful dream and make myself sit up. 5:35 AM. Not overslept, not yet. I breathe and run a hand through my curls still damp from my shower last night. I look at the mountain through the open window of our bedroom and I feel the acute loss of knowing this might be the last time in a long, long, long time I get to see this mountain.
Rashidat seems to have taken the same route as me and is back to sleep in the bed next to me. Bliz’s bed is empty, her big pack and daypack both waiting by her bed for the travel day to come. Daiva is missing too, but I think I hear her in the kitchen.
Steadily, I get up and start getting ready for the day.
I dig out my travel day toiletry kit from my day pack and head to the bathroom. Joshua is still asleep on his mattress in the hallway, and I can hear Walker snoring out on the front porch. For a moment, I stand in the hallway and listen, feeling like all the puzzle pieces of my world as I know it are fitting in their exact places perfectly. Then, Daiva comes out of the bathroom, we smile, and I begin putting myself together for our last travel day before the travel day that’ll take me to the States.
Travel days feel formulaic at this point in the Race. I know exactly what I need in my daypack and I could maybe pack my big pack with my eyes closed. Everything has a rhythm and a place. Again, puzzle pieces fitting near perfectly.
Hair, pulled half up. Jeans, on. T-shirt with a flannel on top for the chilly airports, check. Phone and headphones in back pocket. Wallet and passport, tucked safely in their pocket in my daypack. Laptop, chargers, kindle—I’m ready for the day.
The whole team is awake now. Elvis and Beta are awake too, peaking in, trying to be helpful hosts, but also giving us space to do our final packing and clean up.
I love them.
The thought is clear, whole, and beautiful. This is my Albanian family and I love them. The tears start pricking at the corners of my eyes as I drag my entire life from the last year—two bags—out to the front porch.
Slowly, the team starts to trickle out as well, dragging bags as we go. I keep my eyes fixed on the mountain as much as I can. I’ve watched the sun rise here too few times, for it is a wonder I could probably watch daily and still find myself awed. A deep blue hangs until the sunlight finally breaks over the mountains in the east, streaming into the valley and slowly painting the mountain I love golden.
I notice Beta standing off the porch looking up at me. I meet her eyes and we both smile sadly. Her nine year old son and my good buddy from this month, Mateo, stumbles out of the house and into the early morning. I hug him and for the first time in the month I’ve known him, he doesn’t fight me when I give it to him.
Ten months.
Ten months and the goodbyes have yet to get easier. Ten months and I pray blessings before we go knowing that Holy Spirit will be faithful to stay and love them even when I can’t. Ten months and I’m crying as we drive away from yet another good thing. Ten months and I’m jamming headphones into my ears to try and ignore my own tears.
And despite my determination to not really deal with the pain, a word from Holy Spirit, through the first song on my shuffle. It’s a Lumineers song that’s spoken to me more than once on this journey;
I heard your voice leading me on, through the darkness to the dawn.
Love as deep as the road is long, moves my feet to carry on.
And that’s just it. Ten months and it still hurts, because it matters. Because it’s just like Jesus has been saying since the beginning; it’s all about love. As the last words of the song fade into the next, my tears stop, and my heart is filled with determination to dive head first into this next, and final, month of The World Race.
Nobody knows how the story ends, live the day, do what you can.
This is only where it began. Nobody know how the story ends.
Nobody knows how the story ends.
