A gypsy scribbler's musings & ruminations
Outside the gates of my Nairobi home was a rain gutter two feet deep, lined with concrete and hedged by shrubs and succulents. Some bright, sunny mornings, I would turn the corner and see him there. He was always in the same spot, sitting on the corner of the street with his back to the... Continue Reading →
A long while back, a friend mentioned in passing that he hoped he would fall in love. Though the conversation was an interesting one, what struck me then (oddly) was the least remarkable phrase: "fall in love." Why do we talk of "falling" into love? Is love a trap that catches you unawares? A deep... Continue Reading →
Last week, I sprang a performance on my students. More than that ... I taught them a completely new song ... a cappella ... in Xhosa ... the day before they had to sing it ... for the whole middle and high school. I'm not sharing this because I'm proud of this last-minute approach to... Continue Reading →
My garden and I both got a manicure this morning. The plants got a new compost dressing and I got new nails. I call it the "Fresh Tip" mani. (See what I did there?) This is the first home I have lived in as an adult where I have had any garden space bigger than... Continue Reading →
At the start of October, a lone sniper opened fire on a crowd in Las Vegas, Nevada. At the beginning of November, a shooter entered a church in Texas and opened fire on the congregation. Both of these happened as I was in the middle of my post-op, healing journey. Though not special in the... Continue Reading →
“Hey there! How are you?” Charlotte welcomed me into the office. It was the day before school let out for the holiday and I was there to wrap up loose ends. “Hi! I’m doing well, thanks. Much better than a couple weeks ago. The kidney stone made for a rough two weeks. And how are... Continue Reading →
The two girls could not look at each other anymore. Their faces were flushed and their eyes full of angry tears. One stood facing me with her arms crossed and foot thrust forward. The other stood with slumped shoulders, clutching her elbow and shifting her weight side to side as she looked through the window... Continue Reading →
Samuel Johnson - British author and critic in the late 1700's - once wrote, "Whoever surveys the world must see many things that give him pain." This afternoon, when I came home from school, Benson opened the gate for me as he usually does. I stopped on my way in and rolled down the window.... Continue Reading →
I met a man on the side of a mountain. We met at a narrow pass where only one could walk at a time - I going up and he, down. Behind him, the dusty trail snaked skyward. We both paused and he looked at me with an expectant smile. Trying to hide my annoyance, I... Continue Reading →
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