In the guest room of our house, I stand surrounded by large suitcases and stacks of second-hand laptops. It is a mess of clothes, deflated soccer balls, bags of candy, and early reader books. I leave in four days to deliver these things to a village in Ankaase, Ghana and it seems beyond imaginable that all this will fit into the two suitcases that are open and waiting on the bed. I circle the room and then remind myself to breathe. My husband thinks it’s humorous that I do this, but sometimes my breathing is not deep and peaceful; it is Lamaze-style, as if I am laboring. I stop the nervous shallow breath and inhale and exhale in a ridiculously slow but cleansing manner.
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