Even though my days and nights were filled with delights such as these, there was still a big hole in my heart. I longed for my Mama. I wanted to come home and tell her all about my day, but since she was not home waiting for me, I often spoke to her in my head, pretending she was right by my side. When I took the bus up to the Old City, I would look out the window toward the cemetery at the top of the hill and say, “Hello, Mama,” as though that was her new home and I was driving by for a visit.
