À la prochaine

It's Sunday night, the last night of my stay in Senegal.

At around 10 o' clock, we all pile in a taxi - Julien and Germain in the front passenger's seat, Angèle and I in the back with the two younger boys - and head to the airport.

We bounce along the bumpy roads and Theo falls asleep, nestled in my arms.

Angèle and I talk, but the conversation feels slightly strained.  I know why.  She's trying to keep a handle on her emotions.

We're at the airport now.  The taxi driver parks, we get out, and Julien takes my suitcases out of the trunk.

I bend down and kiss the boys.  Theo leans against me sleepily, only half grasping that Tata Rachel is leaving and won't be back for a while.  How many inches will they grow between now and the next time I see them?

I wish I could take them home with me.  I've teased Angèle that I could just hide them all in my suitcases.  Julien tells me I'll have a big problem with the authorities if I try that...

Angèle smiles faintly.  Words are never enough to express the gratitude I have for them, but I speak them anyway, past the lump in my throat.  They wish God's blessings for me and my family.

More hugs and kisses, and finally we say -

À la prochaine fois.

No goodbye...just until next time.

Whenever that will be.