missing a place

August 26, 2010

It's the people in a place that make your heart ache, and your mind wander back, after you've gone.

And I know splendid people, in Uganda.

I find that emails aren't the same - there's more of a language barrier, and less vibrance to our conversation - but I can read between the lines, and I know that what we are saying to one another runs deeper than the words that flow between us.

Until then, I love finding notes that begin with "Hi Shanny," and flow quickly into stories from the medical clinic, small details about their days - and requests to send more necklaces, baskets. I love getting new stories, and finding photos. But they all fall short - I have to imagine what it's like, from my small desk in East LA. I have to imagine the detials and the faces, the words that flow and the sing song of Luanda and Kiswahili as sorrow is communcated - and help asked for.

I miss the reality of it.

I know that I won't have to read between the lines anymore, when I return.

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