Dear Dad, 

I wanted to write you a profound letter today. 

One with wisdom and clarity, littered with epiphanies that I have gained from the years that you've been gone.

Instead I find myself  quite conflicted while sipping my coffee mid morning on a Sunday.

I understand now. 

I used to naively judge you. 

Often I  would ease drop in quiet dismay as you berated someone on the phone

But these days I also feel like SCREEEAAaming common sense into them is the only thing left to do. 

I don't like making people feel uncomfortable. 

I like to keep the peace as you know. 

But I am tired. 

And completely over it. 

Who cares about their peace?  

I am anxious, frustrated and ready to fight if I have too. 

Help me. Please haunt them into rationality and good reasoning. 

Visit them in their dreams if you must. 

Scare the stupidity and stubbornness right out of them!

I will be cheering you on from here. 

I will write again soon. 

Your loving daughter. 

Leaves, the leaves of the trees and bushes rustling. 

Sometimes it is light and cheery, and sometimes it is just frantic.

Cockerels crowing from all different directions of the neighborhood. 

Sometimes in unison, sometimes just randomly.

A radio playing.

A  heavy bucket being dragged across the ground.

Water splashing.

A broom vigorously sweeping.

A hammer banging.

An old rusty truck reversing. 

The creaky sound of its behind lifting.

Sand pouring.

The angry hooting of cars and boda bodas from the road on the hill across.

Thunder rumbling from behind the hills warning us that a great downpour is coming.

A helicopter flying.

After a while the cleansing sound of dainty rain drops falling begins.

I bought a new handbag yesterday, for use as a weekend bag. 

My current one is old, the handle is recklessly peeling all over the place.

When its comes to bags  I am a simple practical creature.

Just two main ones, the rest are for decoration and the rare fancy occasion. 

The new bag is black, because everyone knows that goes with everything. 

Right?

As I was removing all my items from the old and shifting them to the new, I recalled being a little girl watching my mum and my aunts get ready for church or a party, my naive eyes would watch wide and dreaming of the day when I would be a fashionable-lady-with-places-to-go too. 

All the brightly colored clothes,

high heel shoes with pointy toes,

80's gaudy shiny jewelry. 

Timeless handbags,

and bold red lipstick. 

Well decades later, here I am little Maria. 

I seem to be quite happy with a total of  four bags in my life!

Hahahahahahaha. 

Isn't life funny?