On Saturday it hit me like a ton of bricks: We are leaving Mozambique in less than one month.
Suddenly I feel the slight panic of not enough time to see friends, suntan at the beach, eat prawns, dance until dawn, purchase souvenirs at the wood market. There will never be enough time, I suppose, but it is sad when you start to think about the "last's" of a particular experience.
People keep asking if I am excited to move to the US. The answer, unequivocally, is yes. I can't wait to move to the Bay Area, to be near family, to be anonymous in a city (even if for a short time), to experience a new and vibrant community, to build a new home and life together with Rico.
Part of me is also bittersweet, though. We have such a nice lifestyle here, fabulous friends, good work (although both Rico and I are severely burned out at the moment). Perhaps one of the things I will miss the most is the wonderful comfort I feel being at home in our flat, hanging out with the cats, watching something trashy on tv. I know with time a similar and even more comforting feeling will appear in our new home at Casa Cali, but our apartment here in Maputo holds a special place in my heart. It was here that Rico and I first lived on our own together, where we established sustainable careers, where we started our lives as a married couple.
I'm enjoying these moments in the flat (and in Maputo) as much as possible, all too aware that they will soon be part of the past.