My sister jumped into an embrace with my son and I. It was a moment!
My sister kept pinching my cheeks, repeatedly exclaiming that she could not believe I was right there with her.
She kept pulling on my arms and my hair exclaiming “are you really here?!!” – that sisterly presence – which almost 30 years of phone calls, emails, texts and video chats had not replaced, truly overwhelmed us and completely took over.
My son stared deeply into her face – examining her face then mine – then he repeatedly said in shock, “you look so alike!”
A wave of feelings hit me all at once – this was the very first time he was meeting his aunt, my only sister.
My sister – who had known exactly what she wanted since the age of 5. My sister who always said that she would be a doctor, have a big family and stay close to home –and she had done just that! She graduated from medical school, specialized in Radiology, married a doctor and they have 5 kids.
As we walked towards her car, the warm and thick humid Port Harcourt air filled my lungs. The port city, nestled in southern Nigeria, looked so unfamiliar to my eyes.
My thoughts drifted back to the last time I was in the city – almost 30 years ago. I remembered my determination to reconnect with the land of my birth, and my father’s concerned reluctance. He had emphasized the importance of completing my first degree before embarking on a journey such as the one I was about to undertake. He saw me off to the Port Harcourt airport and his last words to me then were, “do your best”. My mother was filled with prayerful smiles – I would later learn that she had cried for over 2 weeks after my flight took off.
My thoughts faded as I watched my sister and my son talking and laughing excitedly as we got into the car. I was filled with anticipation; it was the beginning of a new chapter….