Just back from dropping my mother off at JKIA (Nairobi's main airport). We were together for a whirlwind of 10 days during which Mom experienced everything from Luo cooking and dancing lessons to Zanzibar's spice farms, sumptuous cuisine and disturbing history. My house feels quiet; too quiet. My bed, sofa, chairs, ...even the air in between!...feel empty, as if they are all on pause, waiting patiently for the warmth and love that Mom brought to them. As I said my farewells to Mom at the airport, I was still riding on that natural high that comes from familial companionship and reunification. No tears came as my cab driver and I spend off back to Westlands. In fact, I was smiling to myself. Mom's visit had brought such a breath of fresh air and comfort to my life.
Back in my cottage now. I'm stretched out on my lumpy sofa, lost in thought. Mom's footsteps out the door have left this place encased in a silence that seems deafening. She hasn't been out of my sight for even 2 hours, yet I find myself yearning for the sound of her voice, or even the mere sound of her rummaging through her things.
Tears come...
Dammit. I thought I was stronger than this. I miss you, Mom. Safe journey home. Come back soon.
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