My world is awash. It started raining yesterday and is still raining. It isn’t a heavy rain, but it is a noisy rain. I love it. The dogs don’t mind the rain. They do leave paw prints in the kitchen despite the rug by the door so I see washing the floor in my future. Right now it is their nap time. After all, they have been awake for about an hour.

When I applied for the Peace Corps, I wrote my preferences for placement as South or Latin America. My parents didn’t even know I had applied so I chose Latin or South American as I figured those places would be easier for my parents to accept, not so far away, somehow a bit familiar. When I was accepted for Ghana, I was over the moon. I couldn’t even imagine living in Africa. I accepted right away. The next hurtle was telling my parents, especially my father. I knew Africa would be a problem. I told my mother first. I asked her to tell my father. I just didn’t want to hear him. She reluctantly agreed. I called a day later. My father screamed, said some unkindly things about Africa and forbade me to go. I would have laughed outright but that seemed just the wrong time. I said I was going. He said he would stop sending money. I would have to support myself for my last semester of college. I said fine knowing that would never happen. It was one of his idle threats. I hung up on him when he started yelling again. That was where we left it.

I had to go home the next weekend as my parents were going to an off-Cape wedding and needed me to stay with my sisters. I persuaded a friend to come with me. He said I was using him. I said I was. My father picked us up at the bus station. He did not talk to me, only to my friend. It was sort of amusing. They all left the next morning.

My father finally accepted my choice. He never did stop sending money. Later, I found out he had talked to a friend of mine who convinced him this was a good thing. The preparations began. I had five months from acceptance to departure. I was allowed 80 pounds of luggage. I had a list from Peace Corps with suggested packing items. Women wore only dresses so that was first. I also had some skirts which would work, but we needed to shop. Check! We bought luggage, an Instamatic, the height of new technology, slide film, plenty of underwear, toiletries, sandals and sheets and towels. Those were the main items.

Peace Corps had sent me a bus ticket from Boston to Philadelphia for staging as I didn’t live far enough away for a plane ticket. My father bought the plane ticket. We drove to Boston, to Logan. We didn’t talk much. I think we were all afraid to talk. We walked to the gate together. I have mentioned before the hugs and that last view of my parents, and my mother’s little wave. There is more to this story, this start of my journey, but I’ll end here. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.

This entry was posted on July 7, 2026 at 2:15 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.