moving.

I have moved a lot in the last eight years.

Each year, at the end of the spring semester, I would sit with my roommates, have a bit too much to drink, and battle to fit all of my accumulated stuff into bags and boxes that could be stored in my sister's living room over the summer. Thanks Beck and Brian for putting up with that bag of hangers. I know it was ridiculous, but buying new hangers every year? Get real.

I find myself moving yet again, and for a number of reasons it is much harder. Instead of saying goodbye to friends for the summer, I am saying goodbye to a family. And I truly am not sure when I will return.

That is the first question people ask me these days. “Oh you are leaving?! Already! But-when will you be back.”

I have to answer honestly that I do not know. And I do not like it.

I don't like it that I won't get to see Sylvester loose his bottom teeth or Bernardo start high school. I won't get to continue to watch my REDES girls grow and become more sassy and independent. I won't get to gossip with my lady friends each morning or joke with the women about the market about how much I like cucumbers.

Leaving Manjacaze is not something I am ready to do. It does not seem like two years have already passed. Though I often sat wondering how time could pass so slowly, I am left thinking about where the time has gone.

I think Peace Corps is one of the few programs that really focuses on your integration into the community. There is great value in becoming someone's family. But it makes it that harder to leave.

Even when I left for Mozambique, I knew a time line. I was leaving for two years, but then I would find myself back with my friends having taco night and drinking IPAs. I was not really saying “good-bye” to anyone or anything.

Don't get me wrong here. In a lot of ways, it is time for me to leave Mozambique. If sustainability is what we are working toward, we have to eventually be comfortable handing our work off. And I know I am leaving my projects in good hands. But I can't help but treat certain things like my babies.

The jammin' will continue. The ladies are motivated and are excited to continue without me. But I worry that they won't know how to access the markets or utilize the profits in a productive and sustainable way.

The nutrition center just got a great grant from PEPFAR which will help it to get support groups established and perhaps some continuing nutrition education for the women who come through. As much as I know it is in a great place, I will miss shelling peanuts with ladies and playing with their babies as I get to know them, their families, and their challenges.

REDES is handed off to a new group of volunteers, similarly motivated to include Mozambicans in the planning and implementation of our projects.

I know there are people taking care of my projects, but these tasks, jobs, efforts have been my life for the past two years. I sometimes wake up thinking of a good REDES session or a new way to discuss hygiene with new mothers. I am sometimes kept up at night because of the thought that maybe we didn't boil the jars long enough and there is mold growing on them.

Someone will do it, though. Someone will stop by and kiss the kiddies at the casa de acolhimento. Someone will make sure my girls still have thread and that they are practicing their presentations for school. Someone will gossip with all my ladies. Someone will make sure the work continues.

Like any family, eventually, you do have to appreciate that everyone is personally capable. I treat my projects like my babies. It is hard to let go of your babies. Just ask my mom.