Eric is getting upset that every day I seem to turn to him and question: "So, you wanna just go to Africa instead?"
I rarely get an answer any more. Just a glare. In recent days a promise of "next trip" has become commonplace, which gives me some peace of mind, but I still find myself pining over not going back this year.
For the past two years, February has marked the time where I would be preparing for leaving, getting shots or even booking flights. This year, I'm left with an empty void once filled with plans of volunteering on development programs with African Impact.
A few weeks ago, when images of relief work in Haiti flashed across the TV screen, Eric and I debated going to do relief work. We both speak fluent French and I've worked on development projects before, and I've been to Haiti.
Despite this, neither of us could find an organization where we were assured we would really be making an impact, instead of taking a space that could have been taken by a doctor or nurse, or even someone simply more valuable than the two of us.
So I think I've come to terms with not returning to my aid work on the continent. There's always next year, and maybe I'll have someone accompanying me on that trip, too.