How kids see color

How kids see color

My first son was born in South Africa. My homeland. My motherland. The place where my heart is buried deep beneath a jacaranda tree heavy with purple petals. Such a tree waits at the top of my parents’ drive to welcome guests. I would take you there if I could....
To my freshly turned four-year-old

To my freshly turned four-year-old

Dear Jackson, I loved you long before you were born. You were the destination I was traveling toward for years. But it took me so long to reach you because I came via back roads, side-streets and muddy ditches. I got bad directions en route to motherhood. And having...

Pizza is my Homeboy

How do you know when you have been accepted into the inner sanctum of your family-in-law? For me, that litmus test was pizza. Or more precisely, pizza toppings. Thirteen years ago when I still thought a size 8 pair of jeans was chunky and crop tops were cool, I met...

Welcome home. Again.

There’s a moment right after passengers have been told to “put your seatbacks in the upright position, stow your tray tables and fasten your seatbelts” and before the landing gear comes down when my heart starts to race at the anticipation of being home again. First...
Homesick

Homesick

It’s been 1 year and 4 months since I was last home. Home – for me – means South Africa. Specifically, Pretoria, South Africa. It’s located here: And no, it’s not a short trip up to Egypt. It’s far. It’s like traveling from...