Empty, Lost.

"containing nothing; having none of the usual or appropriate contents: an empty bottle."

Or, in this case, house.

Uh...huh. Right then.

Mm. I moved this morning.

We are now living in the guesthouse for last two nights, so that our house can be cleaned properly. Tomorrow is our last day in Maradi.

Our house is empty. It echos. Everything we own has been packed into bags and suitcases. The place in which we have lived these past three years has now been stripped of every sign of us. On the inside, at least.

Sunday morning we begin the final leg of goodbyes: Galmi; Niamey. And then we are off, to Europe, then New Zealand. The country I was born in, the country I was raised in until we came here...My country. Home.

I am excited to be going home again, after these past three years. However, this does not completely hide the other feelings.

Lost. I feel lost.

Or maybe it is confused?

It could be both.

Lost Confusion.

I can't wait to get home, be with family and friends again, see my country, taste our food, smell our air and that smell that cannot be defined other than simply home.

Who would have thought that I would be disappointed to be leaving this country? More often than not I have been frustrated, annoyed, angry, with this country, the people, the culture. I have longed to return home again. Dreamed of it. Awaited it more than ever when feeling depressed.

Thus the confusion.

I feel somewhat lost, as if I have no idea what is next. Which, in some ways, is true. I guess it is the questions like Will I adjust back to school life in New Zealand? How will I get on with the friends I haven't seen in years? Have they changed? Have I changed?

In the middle. That is what I am. I want to go home, yet some unknown part of me wants to stay here. I say unknown, because I honestly have no idea why. I suppose I will miss some things, but I probably won't know what I really feel about Niger until I am no longer there. You never know what you've got till it's gone. Will that apply to me? Who knows. Only time will tell.

But before I have settled back into NZ life, I guess I will stay this way. Lost. Confused.

I hate goodbyes. The next day will be full of them. I have said way too many of them in the past few years--life as a missionary, or missionary kid. The difference is this time it is me who is leaving. This time is unlike every other time, in some ways, because I don't have to say goodbye to only one person or family...

I have to say goodbye to everyone.