I wanted to go back

After a year and a half of planning, I'm finally down to counting 13 days before departure. I went from being very moved by a friend's travel photo of a little orphan girl about 3 years old in a pretty dress. I wondered where she'd gotten it and assumed it had to be her most prized possession. (Since she possesses nothing but what she wears...and I mean nothing) I spent about a month haunting thrift stores for the very best little sundresses I could find. I cleaned and ironed them, sewed new buttons on them, sewed ruffles around the hems and then hung them on the canopy over my bed. They were what I saw last thing before sleeping and first thing when I woke up. Those were the good old days before I left the naive do-gooder phase for the harsh reality phase of the high dollar amount it costs to get anything, no matter how precious and pretty to Africa. Then facing the dollar commitment, it became clear there were other things much more precious that should be taken....like medical supplies and life-saving medicines. Then there was the phase where I learned much more than I wanted to know about the extent of poverty, genocide and hunger measured in incomprehensible numbers like millions of deaths and millions of orphans. I read that 20% of children under 5 years old die of preventable diseases like malaria. After reading statistics from World Health Organization, I went home overwhelmed ; I filled a glass of wine and ironed pretty little dresses. I bathed myself in pretty colors like pinks, yellows, lavenders, powder blues. I concentrated on little iron-on butterflies, ladybugs, flowers, and all the innocent details found on little girls dresses. I tried my very best to make the reality of Africa pretty and innocent. I think I wanted to go back. But I went forward instead and here I am ....13 days to go.