I read your blog and forgot you weren’t talking to me.
I wanted to ask you something about home,
about what you saw in Oakland the night Obama won.
The hardest part about being away is missing things like this,
holidays, tragedies and sudden defining moments,
where all at once, everything changes forever,
again.
You said it was like we’d won the World Cup.
A foreign metaphor.
What I want to know is: Did you think of me?
But what I want to ask is: Tell me who you saw and what they did.
But what I want to say is: I miss you.
