Unexpected suprises

Last night, it poured. The kind of rain that’s so heavy it wakes you up so you run to close all the windows, but then lulls you back into sleep.

The thing is, it’s not supposed to rain this time of the year.

And the man at the post office who is a jerk isn’t supposed to stop his coworker with the key to the back room from going home early so you can get your package. And the old man who sits next to you in the taxi isn’t supposed to politely share the space with you that’s meant for one person but you’re being asked to share. And the department-wide three-hour teacher’s meeting that you got talked into going to isn’t supposed to end up giving you three hours with volunteer friends who you haven’t seen since school started and a free lunch with your administration.

I can be pretty hard on this country and these people and these circumstances in which I originally fought to be in. After 17 months, I’ve developed certain expectations. And usually those expectations are that I’m going to be let down, I’m going to have to talk to someone who I which I didn’t, I’m going to be put into a situation I wish I wasn’t.

I’ve spent so much time with these expectations that I don’t allow Benin much time to try to make it up to me. I don’t allow the people, places or circumstances to change my opinion of them. I don’t allow myself the chance to feel anything else besides anger.

It’s raining again right now.