The day came.
We loaded up the car. Dropped the dog off. Took The Prairie Kid to auntie's.
Went to the airport. Checked in. Had friends surprise us to see us off. Ate some lunch. Went through security. Waited.
Took this picture. Too bad you cannot see the GIANORMOUS butterflies and excitement in my being.
And we boarded the plane to Salt Lake City. And then our flight to Paris. And then our flight to our daughter's West African birth country.
It only took us 25 hours of travel to get there. Only. ; )
Thankfully, everything went smooth. No delays, no problems. The first time we traveled to West Africa we were held up in DC and Belgium. We were so glad that we didn't have delays this time.
The airport can be the most difficult part of a trip to this particular West African country as well. We were thrilled to have been there before and know the ropes, and have everything work out smoothly, including getting our luggage just fine.
We. Made. It.
The director of the orphanage picked us up and drove us across the city to the apartment we would be staying at. She explained that the next morning she would bring us our daughter. Wow. In just 12 hours we would be with our daughter!
We soaked in all the sites, smells and memories of this capital city we'd been too once before. There is no place like it. Immediately you realize how incredibly blessed you are in America. And your senses and mind run wild from the over-exposure to such a different life. Culture. Climate.
We arrived at the apartment and met the intern we'd be staying with. We ate and chatted and turned in for a restless, hot, humid and anxious night's sleep.