Love Long Distance

The Ethiopian is in our bedroom talking to his immediate family who still live in (hardy har) Ethiopia. With what little Amharic I know, I’m able to understand that they ask him repeatedly how he is doing, he always answers well. They’ll ask about me, I’m fine too. I love to listen to him talk to his parents. With his father he laughs, with his mother, his voice softens.

Often the connection is poor and he has to repeat himself, but he is persistent. When his brother comes to the phone, they’ll exchange a little joke that they’ve been doing since forever & I’ll laugh quietly to myself. I never thought when I met him, wearing that horribly, horribly, ugly shirt that this would be my life but I can’t even begin to tell you how glad I am that it is.