Upon Returning

Upon returning, the Oregon air greets us with it's sweetness...it is as fresh as the faces of our family who have driven to welcome us home (and the calls from the ones who wish they could).

Upon returning, the vastness and largeness of American life forces our eyes to adjust to their precious focus and leaves us praying that part of us will remain out of focus. The streets appear dead and quiet...no longer alive with the rhythm of African life but ridged. Rehearsed. Disjointed from those around.

Upon returning, I allow the water from the shower to fall on my face: not afraid of the drips which run into my mouth. We allow ourselves, also, the fresh salad prepared for us without the fear of what lives in it; waiting to wreak havoc on our weak American bodies.

Upon returning, my boys...together...our family. The best part of returning: to be a family, no longer separated by oceans and continents. Our whole family: together.

Upon returning, I sit back ans stare at my little boy who has just joined our family. I wish I knew what he was thinking and feeling. We just are beginning to know each other and yet I feel he is comfortable staring into our faces. He will learn to smile. Soon he will laugh. For now, we will hold him tight.

Upon returning, I do not know where to begin. Slowly, Perhaps indefinitely, our stories will be shared.
Our first day with Noah: This is what he did the entire visit

Out for a walk. The stroller is going to be nicer than I ever imagined.

Our boys: beginning to talk to each other...yes, their clothing was matched.

Our Noah.