"The Last Ten Days" by Rebekah Shackelford
Today as I woke up to get ready for class, things felt pretty normal. My host mom, Lana, was making Turkish coffee and having her usual morning cigarette (or two). My host sister, Chloe, was running around in her high heels (she’s a total boss babe) in a hurry to get to her class, and I was trying to wake up enough to decide what to wear. Things felt mundane, I have woken up and followed the same routine all semester.
But it hit me as Lana shuffled by my room and said “love you, Ruba (the Arabic name she has given me)” that in ten short days, I will no longer be waking up to the smell of Turkish coffee and cigarette smoke. I won’t be hearing Lana’s goofy “love you” or Chloe’s giggle. It’s hitting me especially hard now, as I sit in a coffee shop looking through the photos I have taken over the semester and try not to burst into tears. I am sad to leave, but happy because I know I will be coming back and because of all the beautiful connections and memories I have made.
Here are some photographs, mainly candid, that hold so many of those memories…
