There is absolutely nothing better than a good chat with yo mama. Your mentor, confidant, and the best of best friends. I remember being a bratty teenager wondering how in hell people are best friends with their parents.
Lost Teenage Chloe who always blasted Theory of a Deadman from her basement dwelling would ponder: “Like seriously? Mom and dad are so old. They don’t even understand me.”
Mom was the chef, the chauffeur, the homework police, the secretary who called the dentist for me, and comforter to cuddle and scratch my back when life went a stray. She is still all those things to their own degrees, but also the guru of making my sister and I split a gut laughing, an honest and cautious provider of advice and assurance in life, and best of all, always there. She is just always there to talk. And every time we talk, I remember life is ok again. I am ok, and the world continues to spin.
I cried a few tears for the first time last night (not too much to wake Jobey as she rolled and sighed in her sleep – she’s a really good sigher). Coasting on a superficial level without plunging too deep has been successful so far, with little effort. The surface started to crack a bit today, maybe due to some news I received of things happening in Yaounde, or maybe because I simply cannot coast forever. Either way, I felt a little less like a robot. Mostly, I just felt grateful. Grateful for my loving family, ridiculously thoughtful friends, new babies on the way, clean water from the taps, this temporary nomad life, and good food (always food).
I’m off to meet Jobey after her class and hopefully to the market to find food. The stores don’t have hours here in Granada. They open and close according to nap time and, what seems like, The owner’s personal desire. Do yo thang, Granada.
I hope this will spark some inspiration to call your mom, dad, loved ones tonight.
It’s found a special place in my heart the last few days – a.k.a I’m a little obsessed.
It’s better than Theory of a Deadman, I promise.
All my heart,