*Written somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean Oct 9, 2007

And I don't know
This could break my heart or save me
Nothing's real
Until you let go completely
So here I go with all my thoughts I've been saving
So here I go with all my fears weighing on me

Three months and I'm still sober
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers
But I know it's never really over

And I don't know
I could crash and burn but maybe
At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me
So I won't worry about my timing, I want to get it right
No comparing, second guessing, no not this time

Three months and I'm still breathing
Been a long road since those hands I left my tears in but I know

It's never really over, no

Wake up

Three months and I'm still standing here
Three months and I'm getting better here
Three months and I still am

Three months and it's still harder now
Three months I've been living here without you now
Three months yeah, three months

Three months and I'm still breathing
Three months and I still remember it
Three months and I wake up

Three months and I'm still sober
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers

Somehow those lyrics have awoken the writer in me. It's been exactly three months to the day that I left home from vacation. I knew that I should have been capturing my emotions and random thoughts about my departure from Ethiopia but nothing could create the clarity in my mind required to write. I couldn't write. I didn't know what to write. How do you end a chapter in your life that you never want to see end while at the same time know that everything... everyone would eventually change... even disappear into the unknown. Even now, I still don't know what to say. Perhaps my freshest and most vivid memory is that of leaving Kechene. It's not real. It simply can't be. I know I will return to Kechene but my hopes and fears will be realized that day. I'll return, many faces would have disappeared. Not from my heart, my memory, or my soul - but nonetheless without a trace. I'll ask where so and so is... oh 'he has a family now (overjoyed). 'Where?' I'd ask. 'Umm... somewhere in Germany (overburdened despair knowing that I may never see them again).

I've been blessed to find several of the parents of children still waiting at Kechene - particularly those of Tsegerida and Tariku. My relief upon finding them accidentally on the Internet brought me to tears. I was overjoyed - beyond explanation. Part of my family had been identified and I know that someday, hopefully not too far away I would be able to see them with loving parents and an entire family to call their own. All theirs. Forever and ever. Thank you Renee and Geert for your kindness and I hope that upon my landing on US soil I hear you have finally received that elusive court date you've been waiting for for much too long.

Then, there are those that I can almost guarantee will be there upon my return. I'll weep, knowing they still cry and fall asleep alone. From the toddlers whose birth mothers refuse to care for them or legally release them for adoption to those girls of 15-20 who may end up aging out of Kechene, having never found anyone to call their mom and dad. I'll weep some more.

There really isn't a happy ending. One child's life will be saved but the others will continue living the life that they continually hope and pray they can escape. Even if Kechene was renovated into a palace, the children still wouldn't have the one thing they dream about all day and are haunted of all night - a family. Someone to call their own. Knowing that someone will love them unconditionally and forever. I can't imagine what my return will be like. And for now, I just can't think of it anymore.