I’m sitting here tonight looking at pictures, I took back home during my last visit to Ghana. One picture leads to another, and suddenly I’m back in the village @Koforiduain the Eastern part of the motherland. That’s where my high school years happened. I always return to the people and places that helped shape my humble beginnings…
These photos remind me of the small things I miss.
A pineapple growing straight from the soil. Nothing special about it until you really look. Just growing the way it always has.
A local dog resting in the shade. Not owned. Not lost. It belongs to the neighborhood. It moves around freely during the day and somehow always finds its way back. No one fears it, and it fears no one. No one chases it away, and it doesn’t bother anyone.
There’s also a deer made from rusted metal. Someone welded it together and left it there. I don’t know who made it. People walk past it all the time. But if you stop and look, you see how creative it is. How someone turned scraps into something meaningful.
The chickens in the cage are part of everyday life too. Fed. Watched. Familiar. Nothing fancy. Just how things are.
And the plantain, fresh from harvest. Waiting. Food for later. A reminder that life moves on its own schedule.
These are the things I miss. Not the big moments. The ordinary ones. The quiet ones. The kind you don’t think about until you’re far away.
That’s home to me.
And home is still home. Always.
