Considering myself, my hands...

I have been thinking a lot about my identity over the past several weeks as I transition into this new role of "teacher". It is not an easy transition for me, and I continue to struggle to feel confident and comfortable in the role.  I wrote this a few days ago, as we drove to Philadelphia for our pre-departure staging:

As  I washed the last of the dirt and grit out from underneath my fingernails, it struck me that my time as a Tiny House builder was, for now, over. The veneer of grime that I had accumulated over the previous six months and worn light armor during our build slowly gave way under the onslaught of steaming water as I enjoyed my last shower in the US. I reveled in the endless hot water, lingering over my hands as I washed the last physical traces of the past half-year away in preparation for the next 27 months.

My hands were changed from my time as a builder, My nails were short, blunt, and chipped in places- my cuticles raw from rough use. I had scratches and bruises over many of my fingers. I used to have delicate hands- well equipped for typing and note taking from my time as a medical scribe and a student before that. Now they were rough and robust with fingers still slightly swollen from the abuse of the last frantic days of the build. Red under the hot water, they looked almost sausage like; and as much as I loved building our own house, I was a little glad that the grueling process of the last 6 months was over.

Later that morning, I would be setting out with my husband, Sam, to serve for 2.25 years with the Peace Corps. We will be Teaching English as a Foreign Language in the Republic of Armenia. I had packed my bags the previous evening and Sam was almost finished packing his. We had tried to finish packing the night before, but at 2 a.m. decided we needed to get a few hours sleep instead. I had gotten up at 7 in order to shower.

I took my time- enjoying the luxury of half-an-hour with nothing to do but self-care, then dried off, got dressed, and woke Sam. We planned to finished packing and leave the house around nine. We were traveling to Philadelphia to meet with our Peace Corps staging group, with a one-day stop in New Jersey to say goodbye to my mom's family. There will be one day of training in Philadelphia, after which the Peace Corps will bus us all up to New York and we'll fly out of JFK to Armenia, where we'll live until November of 2017. I wonder what my hands will look like then?