Today, I head to Kenya. A land I left four months ago. Memories tantalize my senses and emotions. 

When I close my eyes, I am back there. I can feel the warm humid atmosphere, entreating my body as sweat beads accumulate on my arms, legs and forehead. I am blinded by the daunting and bold sun, that hangs overhead. I can taste the stale air, the saltiness of the moisture and scratchiness of the dust on the back of my throat. I can hear the rustling of the trees and bushes so dry, who seem to move out of some obligatory notion. I can feel the dust being kicked up as I stomp the ground, the dust clinging firmly to my shoes and legs. When I close my eyes...I am back there.

The phrases of Swahili linger in the air, usually directed toward me, because I am different, because I am white, because I am Mzungu. Habari rolls off my tongue, as if instinctually, the only way I can hello. The few phrases I can speak, like a grade school child, I wear with pride. The little I know, seems to carry more sentiment than years of learning ever could. When I close my eyes...I am back in Kenya.

When I open my eyes, I am here, in the swirling madness of life. The daily race, quests, bullet points, obstacles are all here when my eyes are opened. Yet, I yearn for what I see with my eyes closed. I long to have my eyes look upon what memories have impressed upon my heart.