Mormon studies, personal essay, Africa
We moved to Africa for my husband’s job, and those first months in Dakar, Senegal, were hard. We had a newborn and were sleep deprived. The antimalarials gave me bad dreams. We were living out of suitcases, we found dead birds in the back bedroom, and our three-year-old couldn’t seem to stop crying. Increasingly, we heard her fighting with a row of new imaginary friends, who were more often than not consigned to time out in the “bird room.” How would I survive two years?
"The Time It Takes to Age,"
BYU Studies Quarterly: Vol. 55:
4, Article 12.
Available at: https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/byusq/vol55/iss4/12