I get asked this question a lot.
I don’t HAVE to go home every weekend. I however prefer to.
I love the excitement on my mother’s face when she turns from her perpetual seat in our living room and spots me walking into the house via the kitchen door. “Hi mum!”, she will say to me, a greeting so gleeful, like she is the child and I am the mother come home from work.
I love opening the fridge door and finding containers labelled “Kathleen”…my name loud and proud, because my family had something special while I was away and someone, most likely my mother, kept aside a piece for me to find when I came home.
I love getting to my room and finding little goodies on my bed! Pieces of chocolate. A packet of crisps. A pair of tights. A new dress. A new conditioner. A sweater. New sheets. It always feels like Christmas morning, opening the door to my room to hopefully find someone left something for me on my bed.
I love the near constant knocks on my door. Definitely one of my brothers, or both. To just let my door swing open, stare at me for a handful of seconds then close the door and leave. To come into my room, sit at the foot of my bed and watch me work. To narrate every single detail of their day and/or week. To borrow money. To try convince me that we should all contribute and buy ourselves a big pack of crisps. To beg me to help out with baking a cake or making pizza. To try get me to convince mum to get us something either or both of them really want.
I love when someone asks me to do something for them, something only I can do for them, something they waited all week for me to come home and do.
I love having food, an endless supply within a 100-meter radius to my bed. Let’s face it, when you’re at home, does food ever really end? Really really end like nada in the fridge or in all the cupboards in the house? What about in the store?
I love helping myself to half a glass of my mother’s wine…(being modest here…)
I love when the Wi-Fi connects, and I don’t have to think about what things to download and what thinks are really not necessary, because, well, bundles do not grow on trees.
I love staying in my pyjamas all Saturday, in bed or on the couch, watching or streaming something, conveniently replying to emails and writing reports, doing some research, sending out applications, catching up with my brothers, noticing little changes made to the house and hearing the stories of how they came to be, patching together the events of the week while I was away, a productively chill day.
I love the extensive array of hair products I have in the bathroom, being able to spoil my hair silly after the harsh sun and dry, dusty air in Juja has worn it out and taken all the bounce and shine out of it.
I love my extensive ‘fancy’ wardrobe. All my dresses and heels and the things I consider a tad bit too nice to take to Juja where the harsh conditions just, very seriously, eventually ruin everything nice.
I love belonging without having to put in any effort to. It’s like recharging my batteries, making sure I get to 100% before Sunday night or Monday evening when the time comes and I have to head back to school.