And so it begins...

Hazy Wednesday, middle of June, phone rings. I glance over, don't recognize the number, but, immediately, "I know." Funny thing about being born intuitive to start with and then ending years of running away from it by embracing it. The little things, like "knowing," come hard and fast these days. Sometimes like it, sometimes dread it....but no running away anymore.

I pick up the phone slowly, all the while glancing out the window at my perfect view of the Washington monument. In my perfect corner office, in my perfect world in Washington, DC. Paul says, "Do you want to move to Uganda?" I start back-pedaling in an instant. Throwing up excuses, defenses, even expletives....UGANDA? Please!

Still, I am listening. Or, rather, the Me that is not the me that is gazing out of her office window at the Washington monument while casting sidelong glances at all her "achievements" neatly lining her bookshelf, is listening. Paul waits me out, patiently. Paul: my mentor, first boss in DC, and constant guardian angel, waits me out. When I have completed my litany of all of the reasons I could not possibly move to Uganda--but thanks for asking--he tells me to think on it, give him a call in a week, and hangs up.

I return to my perfect office, perfect view, bookshelf of achievements, and try to shut it out again. Doesn't work.

Later, I call my mother. My soulmate, my best friend. "Paul asked me to move to Uganda today to help set up a war crimes tribunal and demobilize child soldiers, can you believe it?" I chortle. Chortling seems appropriate here...although I suck at it...but still, I chortle. And I wait. Wait to hear my mother, my soulmate, my best friend, tell me how fucking crazy it all is...insane idea! Uganda?! When I have all "this" in Washington, DC?

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, "You should go." And..."This feels right to me, the right move for you to make," she finishes.

Again...excuses come pouring out. Ground swell. I have a book about to be published by Georgetown University Press! I get to travel all over the world with this job! I am becoming a leading expert in my field! I am a female AND I am becoming an expert on the military AND terrorism! I am interviewed regularly now! How many women can say that? AND at 33 years of age?

It rings as hollow in my ear as it does in hers. Sounds 'tinny' even. But, still, I try.

"Uganda is in AFRICA, Mah," I tell her. "In East Africa...far away...very far away!"

She waits me out. Like Paul waited.

"Yeah, OK." "All those 'things' are certainly notable and you should be proud of them...and I know where Uganda is, Patti...but, still, I think you should go."

Forget it, I think. There is no way in hell I am giving up "all of this" to move to some tiny country in East Africa.

Next day, I buy a book on Uganda.