packing again

Packing feels very familiar, as if I've filled the little bottles and chosen the clothes and cleaned the apartment so many times that my body could do it without me. It almost could.

One time, when this accountant came to Rwanda from the Canadian office to audit our books, we were driving down the hill on the curving road from the Bethanie corner to the Gulf Eden Roc and I mentioned that I could probably drive it with my eyes closed because I drove it many times a day/week/month and Terry said, "Have you tried it? I would try it." and I looked at the 30 meter drop down to the lake on one side of the road and the 15 meter high rock wall on the other and said, "NO. No, I haven't tried it."

I'm starting to feel like I could almost pack and not forget anything. But that's probably too much to hope. This is me we are talking about, after all.

Jamaica, baby.