Little Rachel

I'll have few regrets from this lovely sojourn in America, but one would definitely be that I didn't get a picture of me with this little sprite's mother. Heck, she moves so fast, I barely got a picture of her! She's an almost 2 year old whirling dervish, and she's the only little girl, to my knowledge, who's named after me.

Little Rachel is the daughter of my friend Lisa, who lives in Portland. We met 22 years ago when she came to work at the St. Petersburg Times Clearwater bureau, after spending a few months living in Lesotho. As 2 of the youngest reporters there, we gravitated towards each other. I'll never forget that the first movie we saw together was "The Last Temptation of Christ," and we both stumbled out of there in a daze. Lisa was Jewish, I was a disaffected former Jehovah's Witness, and we both were like, "WTF was that about?????"

Lisa was damn-near obsessed with Africa back then, in ways I observed with mild skepticism. I was probably just jealous, but at the time I really never saw myself living in Africa, and wouldn't have gone out of my way to get there even for a vacation. I figured Lisa was just another young white female who'd seen "Out of Africa" and vowed to channel Meryl Streep until somebody slapped the shit out of her for being obnoxious. Now, 22 years later, a trip through her house proves Africa left an indelible mark on her. There's Motherland artwork and fabric everywhere, and photos of her stints in Lesotho and Namibia. Lisa would love to go back someday, but for now, Little Rachel, and her husband Drew, and her writing take up most of her energy.

Now I'm the one who's constantly in and out of Africa. Many of my friends think I'm living some grand adventure, and say they wish they could join me. But when I look at pictures like this, I sometimes think I'm the one who's missing out. There are moments when I think having someone like this look up at you and smile at least once a day would be more fulfilling than a 1,000 African adventures.

The grass really always is greener on the other side of the fence, isn't it?