As I write this, it is raining in Kenya.

“Who cares?”, you ask? Aside from the Maasai, probably Sarah, her sister, her mom and her aunt.

“Probably?” you ask? “Yes,” I reply. Because, you see, the four of them (including my 6-months-pregnant wife) are in Kenya at the moment… and I have no way of reaching them.

*sigh*

It’s funny (and probably a little sappy) to think about, but Sarah and I haven’t gone a day since we’ve been married when we haven’t at least spoken to each other over the phone.

It’s weird.

…and funny, too, ’cause when Sarah was packing to go, and was all like: “I’ll miss you, this, I’ll love you that, blah, blah,” I was all cavalier, like: “it’s only ten days” (12, really), and “it’ll go by in no time” (it’s only been 2 days, 11 hours and 10 minutes).

Stupid Kenya.

Now this is where things get really silly: I also miss our pending SLP. All it is to me at this point, is a moving belly, but I miss feeling it kick, and I miss saying goodnight to it. What am I going to do when it’s a real, live person? That poor kid…

On the other hand, maybe baby will get to hear a lion roar, or an elephant trumpet… or a hyaena laugh.

At the very least, I’m sure it’ll hear its mom and grandma and aunt and great aunt laughing… and that’ll be just fine.