It’s ‘Kalangala or Burst’ for me and the nephews this weekend. This afternoon we’ll be ferry-bound for the islands for two days of sun, sand and swimming.
I inherited my love for open spaces, the outdoors and camping from The Rev. Hopefully I can pass on to Jo and Jeff the beauty of living on the edge, of sleeping under the stars, of knowing the birds, of singing with the crickets, of earth and heart and eternity.
On Sunday I turn 33!
I love my 30s. I love coming into myself. I love the confidence that comes with age and the comfort of experience. I love that I am still innocent about the world and naïve enough to want to know more of it. I love my 30s!
A lot of what I know about growing and living I have learned from my wonderful sisters Asiimwe and Bwandungi. They were beautiful gracious girls and have grown into beautiful gracious women.
My sisters have taught me to love despite differences and to endure in adversity. They have taught me about God and good. They have taught me that with age comes knowledge, but not all knowledge brings wisdom. They have taught me to open my heart to life and that embracing the good and the bad makes you stronger. They have taught me about myself.
My mother’s hands are beautiful. They are not long or slender or soft and her nails are fairly short and stubby. The skin is becoming wrinkled and there is a slight discoloration on her palms. But it is in the rough that diamonds are found.
Those hands held us, fed us and washed us. They spanked us and waved warning fingers at us, but were always open for a hug. Those hands have never seen a manicure and are being bent out of shape by arthritis, but when I look at them I see the whole world.
To Sir Whom I Loved:
You’re not in my family, but you are. When I awake in the morning, you are. Just behind my eyelids, you are. In the sun, in the shadows and in the silence of my screams, you are.