Windhoek

The stress of the wedding compounded by questionableness of Lubono.  I suppose the worries would be amplified on the other end in dealing entirely with your side of the family, but it really does start to get to be too much, then to be blamed at that.  What to do, how not to put words in the wrong place, to trust in stepping out further in what already seems an incredible leap of faith.

Instead, tears, matching the heavy rains outside.  A taste of what could come next Wednesday?  Or heavens opening up to ensure it doesn’t happen?

First think back.  The lost sunglasses, the charger left behind, the extreme road that took Prince’s car so long to drive.  But the unicorn, and the Douglas Green, the suppers, Sardanis, the shaving and massage, the monkeys looking in the bathroom window, the lion pissing and the cheetahs on the way home (incredible to know how far the rumblings of the lions travelled).  The beauty of those white/orange outfits, the unexpected discount of the locking band, the awkwardness of Willard’s request for money for ceremonial plates, just at a most annoying time, and as his phone runs out of airtime with Mr. Soneka.  

What’s the over/under on leaving the bride-to-be alone in the bathroom to cry?  I think it’s time.  The plan not to drink was the good one.  Oh my, how will this caper yet unfold?  Remember the sound of the rain?  The owner of the lodge talking about his son the Rhodes Scholar, while refilling his highball glass full of Jameson?  It beats the usual, though.  There was never another choice.  Oh, the human bean.