I wonder about my mother. What is was like for her growing up. What it would be like if we were growing up at the same time and had each other to confide in while going through the same shit stages that life puts you through sometimes. I wonder because she is my mother but also because she’s more than just my mother. It takes us a while, all of us, to start seeing our parents as people and it took my mother leaving me for that to happen to me. I wonder if she was in awe of the newness of everything when she got off the plane with her 2 kids at O’Hare and my father was there to pick them up. I wonder if she had to contain the magnitude of her feelings so her children would pick up on her alarm and enjoy their own feelings separate from her own. I wonder what her and my father talked about that night just before they slept, before starting a whole new life after having already lived a whole one here in Uganda. I wonder if that is something I would be able to do myself. Mostly, I wonder at how much alike we really are and whether that is a product of nature or nurture. I do not wonder, however, that even if I grew up to be just half the woman she is, I would be one hell of a woman.