Dispatch From The Desert #6

I am doubly sad tonight. First, I am sad because tonight is the last night I will sleep here. By this time tomorrow (2320 hours), we will be loading my suitcases in the van, and I will be looking around my room one more time, making sure I didn't forget to pack something. I am sadder still, however, because when I leave, I will be leaving without my faithful traveling companion, Horace.

That's Horace, enjoying some sun in a planter at the Schiphol Airport, in Amsterdam. I know he made it safely to Egypt, because I remember placing him where he normally stays when I am here, which is on the nightstand. But he's been missing forever, and I don't know where to find him. I first noticed he'd gone AWOL the week after I had arrived. He wasn't on my nightstand anymore. Since then, I have looked all over the villa for him, with no success. I have had several visitors to my room from the 5-and-under crowd, who have been treated to little gifts and things like chocolate snack cakes and small bags of potato chips. I know for certain that none of my little visitors could have left the villa with Horace--their Mamas are all too careful. But a small visitor could have taken him from where he was sitting, and placed him someplace else in this big old house, without Mama, or me, for that matter, noticing. I am sure that's what happened to him. I am also sure that wherever that is will probably remain a mystery.

The only comfort is that when he turns up, meaning when someone opens a drawer I haven't thought to open, or looks in a closet I haven't gone through, they'll know immediately who he belongs to. I have no doubt that when I return, he'll be sitting on the nightstand in "my" room, waiting for me. But it makes me sad to leave without him.

There were many places I wanted to take him--I especially wanted to take him to the Khan El-Khalili bazaar. I thought he'd look great among the goods. But as I said, his vacation intinerary and mine were destined to part at some point, and they parted early. And now I'll be going home alone.

I have a lot of photos, and things to tell about which will have to wait until I get home. I just haven't had time to do it while here. Well, I've had time, but not access to the computer. Dad is older now, and he spends a lot of time napping in his recliner, and he finds the rapid-fire click-clack of my typing annoying, so my computer time has been limited. It's all good--my computer is waiting at home, and I can post when I get there.

But I won't be going home with Horace. It may sound strange for a grown woman to be sad about the loss of a little green suede frog. But Horace is more than that. He's been with me on many trips, trips I have taken with my husband, trips to other places besides Egypt. He's small enough to fit in a pocket, or in a corner of a purse, yet he's a powerful reminder of home. Looking at him reminds me of where I come from, and where I will return. This is the first trip I've ever taken where I thought I would take photos of him, showing where "we" have been, but there are no photos, since he's gone. I am comforted, though, to know that despite his loss, I can still make it home, even if I get there alone.