Lately, my two-week trip on a grungy ship carrying goods and aid workers around islands in the Solomons has been on my mind. Sitting in my older sister’s hammock in her Oregon back yard, I don’t feel ungrateful but I just wish I was back to the sea in the South Pacific. These past several years I have traveled a lot, maybe too much for it to really be good for me in the long run, but the one place I just felt I suited and where joy seemed to settle into my heart was on the sea on this dirty little boat riding up to island after island. Maybe I am a water person, or a boat person or someone who just wants to be on the water. I admit, I am super stressed. Once I left West Africa some years back, I have returned from time to time but not to stay past several months. I kept finding myself back in Asia, then in Europe, the Caribbean, in this kind of endless wandering. On the back of mopeds in small towns in Java in Indonesia I would suddenly feel this sense of freedom and wonder, a feeling I had not had since my 20s living in strange places from what I had grown up in. I did not know I could feel that again after so many years living in countries not my own, but on this boat in the South Pacific, with no good food and no good place to sleep, I felt more at peace then I had felt anywhere. I cannot pin point why. I am a water person, or a boat person or just someone who feels genuinely at home on water! Ebola is threatening those I have left behind: my close people, my heart, my loves. I see myself being pulled back in ways I cannot explain even though I had come to the decision to return to Liberia for good anyway, to live the remainder of my life in the laughter of my grand children. Now, in moments of worry and nervousness, I find myself wishing so deeply we could be somewhere between islands on some ratty ship, sailing to meet up with welcoming people far far away from all that has come to disturb our family dreams!