The minute the seat belt sign turned off, I ran into the tiny airplane bathroom and cried. Why was I going back to America? And why was I crying? I’m usually so good at holding it in. But I had to cry. I loved the life I had for those five weeks in Ghana and leaving it behind was impossible. I miss my days going to the orphanage. I loved playing with the kids and spinning them around and giving them big hugs and making sure they knew I loved them. The babies were my favorite though. I would just pick up the first one I saw and smother him with kisses. I wanted to bring one of those little orphan babies home so bad. Going to the street boys center was a much less lovey dovey experience. The boys came here so they could wash their clothes, sleep somewhere safe, and have some free meals. They were also required to do lessons which some of them liked and most of them didn’t. I helped them with their lessons. I graded their papers and helped them when they were confused. Which was often. I remember helping Samuel read a book. He struggled to get through four letter words and stopped every other word to ask for help. He’s fourteen years old. He wants to be able to work with computers and he saves up his money so he can spend 30 minutes at an internet cafe once a week. He told me how he knew how to type in two websites, but he couldn’t read anything on the sites. I remember getting mad at God in that moment. This was completely unfair. In America you know how to use a computer by the time you’re four years old and your parents own the computer and you don’t have to live on the street and search desperately for any little job just to earn a few cents. Its hard to come to terms with stuff like that. Leaving those boys was one of the most difficult goodbyes I’ve ever had to say. I fought back tears as they all shook my hand one last time and told me to say hi to Obama for them. I promised I would. I miss those boys so much. They are the reason why I cheered for Ghana over the US. I could just picture how happy they would be. They needed it so much more than America did. Plus MY BOYS ARE GOOD-O! So ya I’m back in Georgia and I talk annoyingly a lot about Ghana. I love you America with all your air conditioned buildings, walmarts, and taco bells, but I wish I was Africa. So just bear with me as I have random emotional breakdowns in the middle of church and complain overly a lot about not wanting to be here.