My Last Morning
Thursday morning rolled around all too soon. I had been up since 5:00 a.m. having slept poorly, being desperately sad to be leaving South Africa and my beloved Cederberg. I was tired and emotional. I knew it was going to be a very hard day.
Ingrid, as always, was ready with a hug and gentle words of encouragement … not to mention my morning coffee. (She does spoil me so.) As we sat on the porch in that peaceful place, it was inconceivable to me that this was the last time I would begin my day that way for a very long time. For me, time stands still here. There is a timelessness about all of the Cederberg that puts life in perspective for me, that reminds me who I really am, reminds me who I am meant to be. For me, if God lives anywhere on earth, it is here in the Cederberg.
Finally, when I could delay my departure no longer, I said my goodbyes to Ingrid. I cannot write the words to convey my feelings at that farewell. They are too personal. I can only hope that each of you may be so blessed as to have your life touched by a friendship such as ours. I carry her with me always in my heart.
Sampson, Linton’s hired man from Zimbabwe, was catching a ride to Cape Town with me. I usually pride myself on being a fairly well put together person: strong, capable, confident and usually in control of my emotions. I can only imagine what that poor, poor man was thinking as he was being driven down the lane by a strange woman sobbing hysterically.
As I turned left at the N7 and took a last look at this place that has become so important to me, I was overcome with a sense of panic. Not knowing when I will return has left me feeling strangely adrift and disconnected. But what I know for sure is that I will return. I will have to — to collect the part of me that I have left behind in the Cederberg.
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Morag