I was obsessively watching Prison Break last night when my computer started its screen saver. The first photo that pops up is always the same one, for some unknown reason, and it is a rather bad photo of T., an Italian-Swiss guy who worked in Rwanda, and me. The photo is fuzzy and from a terrible angle, and we both have red eyes. We had birthdays right close together, and so we celebrated both of them at the Kibuye Guest House. T. and M., his girlfriend, gave me a Swiss chocolate bar wrapped in kitenge fabric and tied with bright pink string, and I took the cloth and tied it around my head flower-child style, and someone snapped a photo, with my camera, of the two birthday people.
Watching the photos go by, starting, as always, with that one, I thought about the two years I spent in Rwanda. I was 23 when I moved to Rwanda. Thinking about it now, I realize how much I missed during those years. I was there, but I was always waiting for something.
Is this just a factor of being young? When I was 23, I thought my life was going to turn into something big, and everything until then was just waiting time. Now I wish that I had just been able to enjoy it. I wish I had known that life is nothing more or less than a string of moments, and there is no use wishing them away.
If I could do it again, I would spend those walks out the peninsula just enjoying the sunset instead of wishing for the big things to happen. I would stop at E.'s shop more often, just to sit with her. I would let playing with little Zu be my only goal for the hour. I would play tennis (badly) without worrying if anyone was watching, for the pure joy of hitting the ball. I would wake up early to listen to the fishermen sing as they rowed their canoes back in.
If I could do it again, I would brush my fingers gently along each moment as it came. I would try my best not to wish for anything but what I had there, in those beautiful moments that are fading away now.
But I cannot regret that time. That is what it means to be 23: to rush madly into what life sends, believing that your life is going to be something great, hoping for the great things to come as soon as possible. I don't think I could have gotten here without there.
Now I can hold moments lightly in my hand, but the moments I'm missing are on a whole different continent, seven years away, and I can't regret them because they made me who I am.
Watching the photos go by, starting, as always, with that one, I thought about the two years I spent in Rwanda. I was 23 when I moved to Rwanda. Thinking about it now, I realize how much I missed during those years. I was there, but I was always waiting for something.
Is this just a factor of being young? When I was 23, I thought my life was going to turn into something big, and everything until then was just waiting time. Now I wish that I had just been able to enjoy it. I wish I had known that life is nothing more or less than a string of moments, and there is no use wishing them away.
If I could do it again, I would spend those walks out the peninsula just enjoying the sunset instead of wishing for the big things to happen. I would stop at E.'s shop more often, just to sit with her. I would let playing with little Zu be my only goal for the hour. I would play tennis (badly) without worrying if anyone was watching, for the pure joy of hitting the ball. I would wake up early to listen to the fishermen sing as they rowed their canoes back in.
If I could do it again, I would brush my fingers gently along each moment as it came. I would try my best not to wish for anything but what I had there, in those beautiful moments that are fading away now.
But I cannot regret that time. That is what it means to be 23: to rush madly into what life sends, believing that your life is going to be something great, hoping for the great things to come as soon as possible. I don't think I could have gotten here without there.
Now I can hold moments lightly in my hand, but the moments I'm missing are on a whole different continent, seven years away, and I can't regret them because they made me who I am.
1 comment:
Yes.
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