Life in Jersey is going just great: Living in our little room, running back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom chasing my Moms’ legs, and rolling around on the carpeting on my back, smiling up at my Moms.
Moms and I live on the top floor where everything is so peaceful and quiet. The house has thick walls and carpeting; so, I can’t hear anything on the outside. There’s no ferral cats or wild animals outside the window or howling outside the door trying to challenge my territory and make me go outside and let them know who’s King. No sudden farm or highway noises making me run to my pantry. Just peace and quiet.
The only noises I hear are from the family living below on the first two floors. And, these noises are comforting everyday noises.
The lady of the house often calls out her son’s name and husband’s name. She sometimes calls out my Moms’ name. That’s when I realized: Wow! My Moms has a name. I mean, Guys, I’ve always known my Moms has a name but ever since we left Rwanda we’ve been living mostly on our own so I never hear people call it. And back in Rwanda none of my Aunties called out Moms’ name much.
Here in Jersey, the lady of the house calls out different names a lot. And, Guys, when she calls out my Moms’ name, I answer for her.
“Dee…! Dee…!” The lady will call out when my Moms and I are up on our third floor chillin’
Moms is so slow to answer… “M-E-O-W…!” I call back, answering for my Moms.
“Oh, Alfred, you’re so cute. You answer when I call out your mother’s name…” the lady of the house says.