Happy Reunion

Monday April 13

I don't sleep until nearly 11pm Sunday night, I toss and turn all night, and can't go back to sleep after waking up at 6am Monday morning. My excitement has been slowly growing to the point of restlessness. I've resorted to counting not just hours, but also minutes until Sam's flight lands. 

I took my time getting to Gaborone because Sam wouldn't get in until 8pm. I arrived at the hotel to check in at 4pm thinking I had 4 more hours to shower, change, and beautify before seeing Sam for the first time in 8 months. By 4:30pm I had paid and gotten everything squared away at the front desk only to find that the last bus departing to the airport left at 5:15pm. I only had 45 minutes to prepare and be in the lobby to leave for the airport. That would then leave me over two hours to wait at the airport. 

Eight months living in Botswana has taught me to be nothing but efficient with my time and use of running water. I was able to shave my legs, nearly clogging the drain because of all the hair, shampoo my hair, and put on fresh clothes all before 5pm. By 5:15pm I was nervous and anxiously waiting in the lobby ready to go. 

I use anxious and nervous to describe my state of being because at this point in the journey, excitement and joy have been cast to the shadows. My nerves got the best of me and I played out every different scenario while waiting those two extra hours in the airport. I considered everything including your typical airport reunion where Sam picks me up and spins me around or Sam taking one look at me and deciding to turn back towards the plane and immediately leaving Botswana. This obviously didn't happen, but I couldn't help my nerves overpowering all my thoughts. 

It was finally 8pm and I couldn't wait any longer. I went to the floor to ceiling windows facing the runway to watch Sam's plane pull up and slowly unload it's passengers. I quickly move to the arrival gate to take a peek inside customs every time the automatic door slid open. For security purposes there was a big post to block any view farther into customs, but this didn't stop me from standing at different angles to achieve the optimum visual. Within 15 long, painful more minutes I see Sam for the first time in 8 months. 

My heart dropped and I was ready to risk getting arrested by running inside customs to be in his arms. He looked worn out and tired after nearly 20 hours of travel, but his presence lit up my world. Even carrying his big suitcase and his smaller backpack in his arms, he still managed to pick me up and hold me hovered above the ground for a few minutes. We blocked the walkway from any other arriving passengers making them reroute around us because I couldn't stand to let go of Sam. Even if we would have to spend some time getting reacquainted with the other, for those first five minutes in his arms I felt safe, loved, and where I belonged.