I look forward to the sweet smell of diesel as the taxi fills up at the garage on my way home to Mpumalanga. I’ll be the first one to get to the taxi rank on that faithful day as I wait patiently for the taxi to get full so I can go and see my mother. I cannot wait to take a trip home.
I look forward to the sound of the water boiling on the stove on a chilly Sunday morning, and the soulful sound of my mother’s voice as she hums her favourite hymn, this is what I miss. I miss it when she shouts my name and tells me to wake up and get ready for church. The first thing I will do after lockdown is lifted is go to church and sing my lungs out during mass with my rusty voice. My mother always teases about how I can’t sing.