Lesotho Has Changed Me.

I'm driving away from Ha Selomo- watching my little mountain village disappear over the ridge in the early morning light. I can't seem to stop the tears from running down my cheeks. My kids didn't chase the truck out of village this time- I left them standing on the football field, next to my house, looking forlorn and lonely. This goodbye is hard.

I'm not one to cry- especially in public. So I'm not sure when I became someone who cries so openly in front of people. There was a time I would have been mortified by this display of emotion. But Lesotho has changed me...

When I hugged Thato goodbye, she sobbed in my arms while I held her for several minutes. The "old me" would have been uncomfortable; now I only felt the brevity of this last moment with someone who told me in a letter "You have been my mother; you remind me so much of the mother I lost." Lesotho has changed me.

When I hugged Refiloe, Malijeng, Mookho, Mantletse, Nthatisi, Lerato, and Nthabiseng goodbye, I looked them each in the eye and told them how much I loved them. I told them they made me proud and filled my life with joy. I told them I'm going to miss them every day. Because I will and I do. And life is short and fragile. Lesotho has changed me.

Just as I will never forget this "last drive" down my pot-hole ridden dirt road, out of village, I will also never forget the first, terrifying drive that brought me to this community. I was so scared. Terrified. Nauseous. Panicked. I remember meditating. Taking deep breathes to calm my nerves. But mostly I remember texting my best friend from college, Jet. She was on Whatsapp and stayed with me through the trip. I described what I was thinking and feeling- she calmly reached out through the thousands of miles between us and provided a calming presence. Reinforcing and reminding me that, even in this foreign culture and place, I would never be alone.

Now as I sit crying, looking into the rear-view mirror at my kids shrinking in the distance, I text my best friend, Makabelo. She is the comforting presence that walks me through this difficult journey with words of encouragement and reminders that I'll be back soon. She is my bridge now. My emotional counter-point. She promises joy, laughter, and a cold beer when I arrive at her house this evening. My American friends cannot help me through this grief or loss- they won't understand. I need my Basotho friends today. Lesotho has changed me.

It's difficult- seemingly impossible- to leave Lesotho. Even as I drive away, I have the urge to tell Ntate Masiu to stop the truck and turn around... But I'm continuing on and letting myself feel the pain. I'm not masking my emotions. Or smiling and saying, "let's just pretend to be happy because it happened." I AM happy the past two years happened- But right now, in this moment I'm sad and devastated. And Lesotho has changed me- I'm letting myself feel the pain.

I'm embracing the pain because it means my time here was powerful and meaningful. It hurts because I'm leaving people I love, who have changed me for the better. I'm terrified I won't see my children and young women again because I may not. I'm embracing the fear, and all the tears that brings because I would rather feel it than not. Life is too fragile and fleeting.

Lesotho has changed me.