On the seventeenth, my darling brother and his friend J are going to Rwanda to film a documentary.
I'm more than a little jealous.
This is the film that Caleb started filming way back in 2008, when he was just thirteen and not yet in high school (good lord he'll be a senior this fall) and is about soccer (or football, depending on where you live) opening a window onto the lives of the people who live in the village. It's a clever idea, and I'm confident that they'll come back with beautiful footage and the loveliest of narratives that will then be shown on NOVA, or something.
There's just one problem.
I would love to go with them. I suggested this to Caleb a couple of times ("Hey! Guess what? I took film in high school - I could be really helpful!") but he chose J (who is a real live filmmaker who knows what he's doing) instead. Hey, I would love to go if they decided they needed someone to hold the microphone or round up people to interview or to just get them tea every so often.
I loved living in Rwanda. At fifteen, I think I grew up the most - seeing something so different from Boston, learning a ton about hospitals and people and society and how the world works outside of the US. And I would love to go back, to grow up a bit more, to see more of the world before heading off to college in August.
But J and Caleb are going instead, which is okay. J has never been to Africa, and I think that he'll love it, and grow up, just as Caleb will grow up, and they'll come back with something they can share with the whole world.
Have you ever wanted to go on a trip that just wasn't meant to be?