You know you leave in a week when--
your mascara seems to be constantly smearing (why are my eyes always dripping?)
you start wearing the same pants for three days because you have the other ones packed
people start calling "just to say good bye"
you eat Whitey's Ice Cream (the best in the world) for the last time
the knot in your stomach seems to be inching up your throat
God's people surround you in church with prayer and hands
you wonder what in the world you are doing
you pack stuff into boxes, drop it off in Chicago, and hope to see it in Romania
You eat Whitey's Ice Cream for the the last time AGAIN.
We load up the car with shipping boxes.
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