She’s been invited as part of a tour of Rwanda to meet different groups of Rwandan students interested in reading and writing. She’s in Rwanda looking over the mountains in Kigali and eating tree tomatoes and home-cooked meals and working with young Rwandan writers and meeting Rwandan artists and musicians and performers and staying in a swanky hotel that has one of those bug netting things over the bed and a spa bathroom and a balcony in front and a landscaped patio in back, with an outdoor shower even. She hasn’t left the country in over twenty years (see also no vacation), not counting a couple days in Montreal, not to slight Canada as a country, she just has not left the continent in a very long time, and now she’s in Africa, a continent she hoped to see but never imagined she would, doing something that she loves, no less, but she’s also in couples counseling, and she’s away again, for nine days, and she wishes so many times that her husband could be with her, to see the art, see the landscape, meet the people. Be with her. They FaceTime when they can, though time zones are problematic, and a couple days in she says I wish you were here, and he says It’s your trip, and she knows he’s saying he’s happy she’s having this experience but she wants him to say Me too, and then she says she’s been feeling a little sad, and he asks why, and she says I miss you, and he doesn’t say it back.