I miss home..
I miss the shouts of welcome that greets me as I enter my father’s courtyard. My mom’s silent and yet proud gaze, speaks to me, telling me she approves of what I am becoming.
The one who likes to push boundaries.
I miss my her.
I miss the familiar hustle and bustle that tells of a city that doesn’t sleep.
I miss home, home is in Africa.
I remember the way the harsh sun heats up my skin, with beads of sweat forming on my face, almost blinding my eyes, reminding that I am back where I Should be.
My mind remembers the humidity that comes with being home.
The air is poignant with it.
I miss the meals, the oneness, the feeling of rightness, that comes with sharing family evening meals, our bonding time, all of us in a cir