We were on our way to the local aquatic center with friends in my trusty, dented little Subaru. We passed a few yard signs for our small town’s upcoming election. I was listening to my 10-year-old chat with her friends about how excited they were about summer’s approach. Of course, right? But get this. “Yeah, I can’t wait for summer, with all this election stuff and the school shootings.”
Well. Is that how you know that your daughter is growing up in a different world?
I eventually talked with her about the local election: That despite she and her siblings’ wide-eyed ingestion of the scrolling newsfeed in 2016, elections are not usually scary things in our country. (This was less so in Africa, where she grew up, so I get that, too.)
Well—we did it.
“Teacha!” He loped across the pavement to me where I stood shaded beneath the tailgate of my high-clearance minivan.
Last Thursday was one of those days that encapsulated so much of what I love and what drives me bananas about living in Uganda. I veered through jaw-clenching traffic on the 45-minute drive home, assembling all the clutter of my day into the appropriate mental file folders. This is quite a task to begin with–considering both a) my mind and b) at least four sudden oncoming governmental convoys. (Let’s just say mental “papers” kept being upended from their file folders by real life.)
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
