Photo by Natalie Rolfe |
A normal morning last week started out well.I was strong and proud, feeling independent and capable. I was collecting information about new terms and details that 9+ years in Africa had left me only mildly aware of. I was feeling confident about my preferences that I was discovering that I wanted in a car. I was even feeling hopeful that I might get a better deal than first expected.
As I wrote out my findings in an email to my Dad, the master of all deal-finders, I suddenly had tears rolling down my cheek, each moment led to more at a faster pace (truth be told, even as I am writing this now, my eyes are brimming with tears). And then the gentle sobs of a grieving heart began, again ...
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