The Random Little Things

There’s about a million things I want to tell you. Simple things. Like the pretty flowers I see from my table every time I eat and look out the window. I want to talk to you while I take my clothes out to the backyard so I can hang them to dry. I want to show you the new egg basket I bought. I want to show you my braids I got. I want to talk to you about all the things that don’t matter but you make it seem like the biggest thing. I want to be able to call you while I am cooking dinner and wish you good morning. I want to talk about the books I am reading and the different people I am getting to know. I want to show you the beautiful fabric I bought at the market or the random trinkets I ended up getting. I talk to bia and tias sometimes and can’t help but to see your face in theirs. They act so much like you, celebrating all the ridiculous small things I do like if I have just overcome the world. I am so happy here mami. I wish I could show you how incredibly happy and at home I feel. I wish you could come visit and hug all the little kids at church. Or have you complain about not being able to straighten your hair because the power is out and laugh with me because we almost hit a goat on the road. I want to hear you trying to speak Chichewa, like you always practiced whatever language I was into learning randomly. I want to be able to hug you mami. I want to see your proud smile at all the little random things I am doing here.