Out of Africa

Summer is almost over.

And I couldn't be happier.

That's not a sentiment I often express, but I couldn't wait for June, July and August to pass. Because during that time my eldest, Rachel, was cavorting (yeah studying) in Kenya.

And sight seeing in Tanzania.

But this Thursday, she'll be boarding a plane for Amsterdam. With enough layover time to visit a hash bar, I'm sure. And then back on a plane to come home.

When she steps through the gate at the Tom Bradley International Terminal I will exhale.

Finally.

I'll be the first to admit the experience was more gut wrenching before she got on a plane headed for Nairobi. I was a total wreck. Sure I understand the desire to spread the wings and see the world, but couldn't she do that in Arizona? Or maybe even Vancouver, Canada?

No, she had to fly herself to Eastern Africa. To a country shoehorned between the failed state of Somalia and the machete-wielding assholes of Sudan.

But the truth is, once she settled in, so did my stomach.

She had a great teacher at the NGO. She met a thousand schoolchildren who still could not get over her whiteness. And she kept us updated with wifi enabled FaceTime chats that went a long way to lowering my heart rate.

The most disruptive part of her trip was having her iPhone stolen from her back pocket. We know it was stolen and not simply lost because the SIM card was placed into another device. After 13 bucks worth of data usage I quickly suspended that account.

Sorry, Mbuto, your porn is on your own dime.
Or your own Kenyan shilling.

But this too worked out because with the canceled account I magically qualified for AT&T's incredible buy one iPhone and get the second one free promo.

By this time tomorrow, I will have Rachel in a bear hug.

And by this time next week, I'll be yelling at her to get off Netflix and clean up the dirty dishes in the sink.

I can't wait.