I arrived in Morocco a year ago today. The one-year mark feels like a birthday: a day invested with only as much meaning as you allow. It can be celebrated with fanfare and cake. Or it’s just Thursday.
I don't mean to undermine my accomplishment; I am proud to reach this landmark. Each day, I made an unconscious choice to stay, even at my lowest moments. But the best way I can celebrate my service is to embrace every day, to ardently live my choice. And Thursday is a busy day.
In the morning, I go to souq to buy groceries for the week. I spend the afternoon cooking. At night, I teach my beginning and intermediate English classes. And if I’m not too tired, I stop at my neighbor’s for a late night cup of tea before retiring to the comfort of my apartment and the blissful world of my current novel (The Robber Bride, Margaret Atwood).
So for me, it’s just a routine Thursday.
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