10 February 2011


I walked out the door in the morning, a few days ago, and the walkway to the road was covered in what looked like tiny yellow flowers. I looked closer, and they were little gold stars scattered all over the wooden path out to the street. The people from the other half of our duplex must have had a party, because there was a balloon on the mailbox, too.


The sky this morning was blue in the middle and white around the edges, and the air smelled of smoke, and I couldn't place it, for a moment, until I realized that it was Rwanda, just forty degrees colder. In dry season in Rwanda, the sky is light blue like that in the middle and hazy on the edges. It's the time of year when the volcanoes are never visible, because the rain never clears off the haze on the horizon.

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