i squish the neon orange plugs and twist them in my ears until the sound of my heartbeat drowns out the howling dogs. thump-thump. thump-thump. i can no longer hear the night guard’s radio. no more laugher and voices from the girls down the hall and downstairs. i won’t even hear my roommate fumbling in the dark tomorrow morning when she gets up an hour earlier to meet her teaching bus.

there is a huge tree dense with dark leaves outside our bedroom window. in the morning, i like to lay in bed and watch as the rising sun pokes holes of light through the leaves like stars in a dark sky.

i lie in bed longer now. the mornings are freezing and sometimes i will put my socks on underneath the covers. then i turn back the three blankets reluctantly and quickly get dressed. it’s funny how we used to comment that you could recognize most of the children because they wear the same thing every day. and here i am wearing the same two sweaters every morning.

tomorrow is my last day of work here at the clinic. i will spend the morning with John at Dambwa and the afternoon with the Family Planning nurses at Maramba. then i will come back to the house and have dinner and be released from my responsibilities in this little corner of Zambia.

perhaps some of you have noticed that my writing has slowed. i’m not posting 7 or 8 entries each day anymore. my writing has slowed because my seeing has slowed. i’ve stopped looking at most things and only notice when they jump up and slap me in the face. i’ve spent this week closing off my senses and turning inward. the earplugs are stuck in tight. and so i don’t have much to say.

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