It is June 6, 2014 and I have just got finished walking the neighbourhood with my mother and two other women that we often run into while on their own walk. Another mother and daughter (though older) that often wave and ask us how we are doing. Today we were perfectly synced and walked together. The mother (in her 80s) walked with my mother and the daughter (the oldest of 5) walked with me, inquiring about my plans since I graduated from college.
“I’ve been accepted into the Peace Corps,” I replied, “It’s not until May 2015 but I’ll be going to Cameroon to teach English as a second language.”
I could not see her eyes behind her darkly tented sunglasses but her smile and further questioning seemed enthusiastic about my plans. The rest of the walk was spent in an exchange of questions and answers ranging from, “How do they treat women in Cameroon,” to ,”How did you decide this is what you wanted to do?”
Ever a talker, my answers were long winded and enthusiastic, and included descriptors of gender roles, my past desires to be a veterinarian and my study abroad. As we came back to the home of our companions I was given a hug and asked, “Do you believe in paths? Not a a destiny per say, but a path.”
“Of course. One decision leading to another,” I answered with a shrug to accompany my simplistic understanding.
She told me I should journal, even just a few words a day, “…I’m saying 11:55 pm get a few words down.” Apparently my path that led to now is “remarkable,” “fantastic,” and “amazing.” Just to note a few adjectives.
“This makes me sound old,” she said with a smile, “but it’s a good way to reflect on your path thus far.”
So this is it. My journal that will include a bit of the past, some of present, and into the future when I head off to Cameroon. This should be fun.