FORTY-ONE DAYS

Dearest Friends,

From the moment John stepped off that boat, the clock began its countdown.  Forty-one days left in Bahrain.  Forty-one days in which to accomplish everything that needed to be done, and to tie up all of our loose ends.  Forty-one days left of what might be the biggest (perhaps even the only) adventure of our lives.  How exactly would we spend them?

Well, for one thing, we would start by planning the trip of a lifetime, though it took a bit of work for me to convince my hubby of that.  He, of course, was fretting about not having another job already waiting for him back in the states, and thought he should hurry straight home and begin the search.  I told him "Hey!  You have been working non-stop for the last 18 months. We've got two free plane tickets, a month's paid vacation coming to us, no debts, no bills, no mortgage, no kids, no responsibilities, and more money in the bank than we ever thought possible.  If we can't take a vacation now, then when?"  "Well, when you put it that way!"  We began plotting our course through Europe.

In the meantime, however, in addition to John working full-time in the office, and making one more quickie trip offshore, there was a quilt to be finished, and a bunch of aprons to be sewn for an AWA fundraiser; there were lots of household items and appliances to be cleaned up and sold, and all kinds of inventories to be taken; I had a mix 'n match, drip-dry travel wardrobe to sew for myself, and there were new work suits and a white 3-piece Saturday Night Fever suit to be whipped up by a tailor for John; there was one last Mexican Potluck to be given for our departing friends Nellie and Dave, at which we would finally learn to do the Texas two-step (yes, both of us born and bred in Texas, yet we  had to go halfway around the world to learn how to dance to C&W music), then others hosted in our honor to attend, so that we could practice and perfect it!

John had lots and lots of photos around the island that he still wanted to take, and there were prints to be made before selling his enlarger; there were bank accounts to be closed and yet another air-freight trunk to be argued over and packed; a car to be tuned up and sold, and plants to be given away; and finally, the packers to prepare for.  Eventually we would end up right back where we started -- living in a hotel, and scrubbing an empty flat.  Forty-one days.