Apparently, this is my week of missing things. In addition to missing horseback riding, I find myself missing traveling. Or, more specifically, Africa. I miss Africa. Wait, wait, I should clarify; I miss rural Africa. If I only missed Africa all I would have to do is to step outside, fling myself on the ground, and stay there until the missing passed.
I miss Ethiopia. I miss Zambia. I miss Egypt. I miss Tanzania. I could go on, but I won’t.
Although I’m only 18, I think I can now understand a little bit of why people say they miss their childhood days. It’s such a shock to realize that you are no longer quite that person – the person who traversed multiple countries and ate things because it was the polite thing to do, and became addicted to the smell of rain and moss and rusting cement. If you’ve never smelled that, go to Ethiopia. It’s the only way to describe it. Rusting cement.