It’s been five years since I last heard your voice. What was it’s pitch? How did you inflect? How did you Intonate?
It’s been five years since I last heard you sing. Sometimes strumming an imaginary violin. Sometimes conducting an imaginary orchestra. Sometimes high pitched. Sometimes in Rukiga.
It’s been five years since I looked into your eyes. What color were they? How they popped out as you told us animated stories?
It’s been five years since you smiled at me. What was that curl in your lips? What was the sound of your smile?
It’s been five years since you called my name. Dora.
It’s been five years since your number rang on my phone. It’s been a long since mummy lit up my screen.
Five. 5. V.
A lifetime or a number.
A shift or a permutation.
The gap, the void it remains.
A mummy shaped hole that only you filled.
The Lord is with you.
I am grateful and thankful.
Thank you for being my mummy.
Thank you for teaching me compassion.
Thank you for surrounding me with virtuous women.
Thank you for watching over me like a hawk.
Thank you for good food;
Thank you for good music;
Thank you for fashion;
Thank you for keeping it real.
Thank you for good grooming.
Thank you for supporting me to the utmost.
Thank you for leading me to Jesus.