Far From Him: Phoning and Part of Packing

I have begun to miss John. Two weeks before my trip I scour the cell phone company's web site for good deals on overseas phoning -- because the sound of his voice will sound like music to my ears. I hear Max Bruch's Violin Concerto #1 playing as I speak to him: The violin cries, and the piano responds; each in turn cooing, playing touching notes to the other, breathlessly. It sounds just like us.
I know what will happen in Guatemala and Belize, and I know because I've experienced it before: My schedule will differ from day to day and so I won't know exactly when I will find time for phone call; more importantly, when I do find a moment to phone home, I'll find myself at the mercy of the operator who may have stepped out for a cup of coffee.
The places I will stay, though, have high speed internet access -- Wee! At least I will dash into the lobby after each day trip and haunt the computer while it accesses my email. His words will become eye candy then, as I read his notes, first scanning quickly to take it all in at once, and then slowly to relish each word, each letter; I picture each strike of the keyboard with his masculine fingers, cherishing every moment that I can grasp from reading a note from Him.
Packing has begun, sort of. I pack by not finding things to wear. I look into my closet and see it stuffed with dresses and shirts and slacks I haven't worn and don't want to wear. My eyes grow wide, my jaw drops, my stress level rises. (I only have two weeks before I leave! How can I ever get started packing if I don't have anything to pack?) Overwhelmed, my next step is to remove the things I don't ever intend to wear and to set them aside for the Faith Mission. I fling more and more garments on the floor; the more stuff that comes out, the bigger the pile becomes to cart to the mission. My third and last step for the day: I throw the back of my hand against my glistening forehead and say, "Fantods! No more!" Years of clothes subsequently go into plastic bags and loaded into the car.
In a couple of days -- an appropriate period of recovery -- I try again, this time a little more easily, of course, since I hardly have anthing to wear. Packing then becomes simple, light, and non-fantodical. I know, for I have become an experienced traveler; I went through the same thing before the Viking Tour and the Expedition to Ancient Eygpt. I know the short cut to the Faith Mission downtown; I know the guys by name; I chat with them and josh with them while they unload my trunk.
For Guatemala, I will need hiking shoes, light clothes, LOTs of mosquito repellent, a hat with brim, camera, light rain jacket, snorkel gear, my laptop, and a sharp eye out for a telephone.