I woke up to the sound of rain drops tapping away at the bedroom window. There was no banging of pots in the kitchen as Mummy made breakfast or the revving of car engines as Daddy decided which car to use for the annual visit to Uncle John's house for Christmas lunch. A few minutes later, Ivan calls from the tip of the continent to convey his greetings and salutations. Tutu sends an email requesting for a conference call at 4 pm. I am hit by the fact that they are no longer just down the corridor or on the other side of the house. I cannot pound at Tutu's door to chase her sleepiness or playfully drizzle water over Ivan's face to banish a possible hang over. My little ones are gone. And I have a new life. Tis been a year of many firsts, this may be the loudest change for me. First Christmas with us sprinkled all over the planet.
Laughter and voices cannot replace the actual warmth of physical beings. But thank God for google chat and for Orange mobile data. Merry Christmas little-ones-who-are-not-so-little-anymore! Nga the years have rushed by so quickly. The Rents, I'm sure are proud of you and your achievements. As your unofficial Maama Omuto I am proud that you left the nest when your own wings were strong enough and you can stand on your own.
Salaams from the motherland. Merry Christmas.
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