I was never really much of a misser (Mother and
Father, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t love you!) but then this passage appeared
in my journal, supposedly penned by me:
“Yesterday I was so happy to see Kessifia, I could
barely contain my excitement. Actually I could contain it fine, but I couldn’t
keep from smiling. She just looked so smiling and happy, and I
was glad to see him. I missed her. I
don’t know how to explain what it means to miss someone, but I thought about
him, and felt her absence, and felt like something was missing. It’s one of those things that you can’t really describe, you just feel it
and know.”
*names and genders have been altered or made ambiguous
to protect the writer’s feelings and the missed one’s privacy
So, it seems that I have started to miss things! Rather, I'm sure I always had, maybe I just recently recognized that an absence you feel you’re you’re not with someone means
that, well, you miss them. Let’s just say Steph’s going through some Character
Development.
Things I’ll miss about Mozambique:
No traffic jams
Getting enough sleep
Having an excuse to not check email for three weeks
Openback chapas
Bucket baths
Playing soccer with a bunch of funny little girls and
sassy bigger girls
Having simple food choices
My benches
Jogging on a dirt road at 5am
Having freedom in my job – room for creativity,
writing my own lessons, developing my own projects
No water or electricity bills
My cute house
A life free of tchotchkes
Things I won’t miss about Mozambique
Being called by my skin color
7:00 events starting at 10:30
Eating meat once every two months
Minibus chapas
Dump flush toilets
Having five food choices
My couch
Traveling along a dirt road at 5am
Being charged ten times the price of something because
of my skin color
Hand-washing clothes
Dedicated to all the people I missed while in Mozambique.
There are quite a few of you.
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