Hisabe

You came out of nowhere, and have become someone important to me in such a short amount of time. I’m grateful to be cared for by you. Let me list the reasons why (for a day that makes it difficult to remember why my heart’s so full right now):

1. You affirm me. You compliment my pictures, my personality, you call me warm things with ease and regularity. However shallow or selfish it might sound, you make me feel good. 

2. You’re thoughtful. You pick up on the little things, listen intently, and then do/say caring things. A whole itinerary for our first day + surprises - I’m so grateful for you. 

3. You’re just so damn sweet.

4. You’re funny & charming.

5. We share culture, family, and upbringing.

6. You speak to me in Tigrinya.

7. You want me make me happy, genuinely. 

8. You think about the future and our future together.

9. You challenge me and encourage me achieve my goals. You don’t want to take away from me, but want to be a support system. 

10. You’re honest and direct in how you express yourself. You speak more openly than I realized a man could do. It’s refreshing. You’re a breath of fresh air.

11. You’re helpful.

My father is afraid of water.

My mother is afraid of the dark. 

There fears are filled with riddles from their silenced past. I wish I knew where it came from, where they inherited or learned their fears. 

I have this vivid memory of sitting on the ground at the edge of the kitchen, as you cooked at the stove and I read aloud the sentences I had written for the words on my spelling list. Each sentence has to be at least eight words long, the instructions said. You listened attentively to each sentence, encouraging me to make them longer, more complex, more interesting. With each sentence, you pushed me to say something that would impress my 2nd grade teacher.

Strangers who know you by your grandfather’s name aren’t strangers at all.

I don’t know that when our grandmothers were together that they could imagine that their children’s children would convene – across the world, in a different language. We live outside their imaginings.

I see that when I speak now, people listen. I have things people what to hear. I have the ability to build an argument, to critique, to formulate my own thoughts around something. I can speak back to the article, I can place myself in the text, I can make connections to it - I can ask new questions from it. 

We say we are going back home as if we are returning. 

We say back home like it’s familiar, nostalgic. 

Why do you keep sending these text messages? Why are you reaching out to men that you aren’t even *really* interested in?

It’s more difficult to forgive people you have loved harder, been more vulnerable towards. People who have seen you naked, emotionally. 

15 men. That’s how many names I wrote down last night, as I rode back on a bus - returning from #15. The order was hard to recall, and some names failed to immediately come to mind. At first, it started as a list of sexual encounters, but then it grew into a list of all men that I have shared time with - given thought to - told intimate stories - and men that have visited intimate parts of me. 

15 men.

one turned me into the other woman.  some made me feel valued. stroked my ego.  others made me feel sexy and desirable. they made me comfortable naked.  some got late night phone calls. with time difference. leaving me tired. others scratched an itch I had.  some made me feel in control some were for one night only. most were completely unemotional. one I really wanted to work. one was good on paper. one I romanticized, cut-off, and couldn’t stop returning to.  that same one tried to enter me. begged to go all the way. others also tried to penetrate. negotiated just the tip. asserted that they respect me, but also came so close that their bodies’ did otherwise.  one grounded me when he said “maybe it’s how far you’re letting us go.” I hate the truth sometimes. others were tinder dates. one-and-done. disinterested.  some were repeated mistakes. repeated offenders. one had potential, but also didn’t give me rides home and then ghosted. two ghosted. and, subsequently, I pulled away.  most will be forgotten. one was a past lover, returning to me. it was so easy to slip back into comfort and familiarity.  some were only interested in their nut. the same one who don’t give head. others ate me out enthusiastically. the same ones that made my body feel perfect in it’s uncertainty. 

but still: most will be forgotten.

But imagine, the emotion, the relief, the gratitude, when

(or if)

I finally walk the land my ancestors walked/lived/created. 

Realizing you may never walk in the same places your ancestors once walked

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