poem picHow can I tell you how I feel?
To wake up to the sound of noises
the familiar noise of dogs barking late in the night
of cocks crowing one after the other…
traveling out in the village early in the mornings
of mom’s early footsteps
as she makes her way to the kitchen
to hear the oil sizzling in the pan
and the fresh smell of her cooking
spreading like a ghost trail
all throughout the house…

The early morning traffic goes by
the voices of people in friendly greetings
laughter ringing and I feel joyful to be home.
I’m still in my bed at 6ish
and all this is going on…
I lie down and listen for more
the noise of my nephew’s alarm
him fast asleep, snoring on…
Mom quickly runs to his room and turns it off
but at her age, she can barely see
she presses the pause button
and it will soon go off again…

The pots and pans of the neighbour banging
as she too prepares breakfast and lunch for the day
sweet smell of fish stew
awakes my hunger in the wee hours of the morn;
yet I lay in bed
I need time to believe I am back home…

Across from me my baby sleeps
peacefully he snores away
one gentle kiss, a smile on my face
I ease myself from the bed
and close the mosquito nets securely…

I make my way to the kitchen
where the smell of freshly brewed coffee
draws me in;
my mom busy in her tasks
her silver hair uncombed and wild
her face heavy with a frown
her thoughts I know are far gone…

My morning greeting lights up her face
“Good morning my girl,
here, I made you coffee,” she says.
My cup in my hand
I sip the fresh coffee
and lean out of the back door
letting my eyes travel to the mountain ahead.
The memories flow to my childhood days
a cool wind blowing from the light rains
but this morn I only had the rainbow in sight.
Another sip of Mom’s freshly brewed coffee
and I listen as she tells her stories of new and old;
I’m just happy to be home.