Parents in Guinea

What will I remember from my parent's visit to Guinea? The time we got ripped off on the islands for new years eve? The impossibility of finding a taxi out of Conakry? No.

Because when your real family (minus my sister) meets your adoptive family, all the stupid little stressful things go away. I'll remember making my favorite sauce with Bijou, and how she kept hugging and kissing my parents and telling them how happy she was. And how my parents played with her daughter, Hawa, as though she was a third grandchild. 

I'll remember my mom's surprise and happiness when she saw Ela, a child in my compound, dragging a box around by a plastic bag string and calling it his car.

I'll remember my students singing the national anthem to my parents, and singing the American anthem for them. Not to mention all the questions they were brave enough to ask my parents that they've never asked me. And the questions my parents had for my students.

I'll remember head-lamp reading with my parents in my enormous bed under the mosquito net, singing along to "Call me Maybe". And how disconcerted they were by not having light at night, something I'm completely used to.

I'll remember dinner out with all the volunteers and hearing my dad give the French line. The French line? If you've heard it, you'd know what I mean. Both hilarious and embarrassing, in that special way that only a parent can manage. 

I'll remember hugs and laughs and the happiness that comes with knowing that your loved ones can better understand what you're going through. 

Thanks, Mom and Dad. It was wonderful to have you here! I love you!