In the Wee Hours of the Morning

It is 4:30 in the morning in Johannesburg, and I am sitting in the quiet of my warmly lit hotel room that feels oddly like home.  The comfort of the plush terry robe keeps me company along with the freshly brewed cup of Nescafe sitting on the nightstand.  I'm a resident of the world as I choose to embrace the familiarity of this quiet moment continents away from my life in Georgia.

The wings that brought me here glided through frozen air thousands of feet above an expanse of ocean that seemed endless as I watched our progress on the computer screen at my seat.  One hour, two hours, and counting...until I reached fifteen.  Fifteen hours it took from the moment we left the last soil of the U.S. at the South Carolina shore until we broke through the soil at Namibia on the continent of Africa.  Fifteen hours of gliding over an ocean.  Calculating those hours brings a new knowing of the vast world in which we find ourselves playing out life on its stage.

The enormity of our world and its complexities reveal to me in the heavy echoes of summer's glory drifting through the evening African air.  The final encores of the hot, sticky days of the warmest months of the year can be felt and heard as I watched the sunset last night over the landscape broken by Jacaranda trees.  Autumn is ushered in - although quietly - as native South Africans cling to the last moments of life this year in their summer clothes.

Today will be filled with many more new sights and sounds as I meet with several people including the photographer we hired to capture the work.  In a few hours I will meet Zane for a coffee and later today there will be a traditional "Braai" (South African BBQ of game meats) at Marion and Ian's for guests and partners.  The training begins early tomorrow morning - and so, I take a deep breath.