Proof of Home: How a Family Visit Brought Our Life Into Focus
No matter how many stories you tell, FaceTime calls you make, or photos you send, nothing compares to family stepping into your actual, lived world.
Hosting them turned our words into reality–for them, and unexpectedly, for us.
I had looked forward to this visit for months. We’d been holding our breath through political uncertainty and whispers about Peace Corps programs being suspended. A thousand what-ifs swirled. Would we be sent home abruptly? Would we ever get the chance to show this life to the people we love?
The moment they stepped off the plane was an exhale.
You can talk about the 5 a.m. birdcalls, the expansive blue sky, or spotting warthogs on the golf course, but living it is something else. Watching my family experience it all made the stories we’d told finally make sense.
There’s no real way to prepare someone for using a Super Soaker to keep monkeys off your lunch, or for the moment you drive by a leopard sitting calmly on the side of a major road (yes, really). I’d told them people here were friendly, but nothing quite prepares you for the rhythm of a three-part handshake and a greeting that carries more warmth than translation.
Our first days together were simple. Quiet. Ordinary, even. We swam in the pool. Ate dinners around our outdoor table. My parents helped the kids with homework, giving me and Kris a much-needed break from quadratic equations. We visited favorite local spots, took walks through the garden, where my mom marveled at the wild tangle of flowers and giant orb spiders, and my dad and I tried to identify birds he’d never see back home. Uncle Andy taught the boys new tricks on the trampoline. They were stepping into our rhythm. And in some ways, we were seeing it more clearly too.
Then we set out on a few adventures – the kind that reveal the real magic of Botswana and this part of the world.
We started small: a morning at the Gaborone Game Reserve, right in our neighborhood. No big predators, just warthogs, monkeys, antelope. A warm-up act. Then to Mokolodi Nature Reserve, where the wildlife was matched only by a surprise hailstorm that turned our game drive into a soggy, chaotic comedy of errors. I think they all would have been scared if we weren’t laughing hard.
From there, we went big: Chobe National Park, one of Botswana’s crown jewels. Herds of elephants at sunset, sundowners next to dozens of hippos grunting in the water, lions so close we held our breath. And just when we thought we’d peaked, we crossed into Zimbabwe for a walk along the mighty Victoria Falls. The rainy season had swelled the Zambezi, turning the path beside the falls into a full-on soaking. We were drenched within minutes.
Ben, Emory, Anna, and Andy all ziplined over the gorge, their faces equal parts thrill and terror. Not long after, Andy and I ran through the streets chasing down my missing phone, convinced a baboon had stolen it. (Spoiler: it was in the car. And I was demoted to shamefully wearing my phone around my neck for the rest of my life.)
We ended in South Africa, in the beautiful Madikwe Game Reserve, a mere 45 minute drive from our house but a world away. We watched a lioness stand her ground against a defiant young male, navigated around elephants casually blocking the way back to our rooms, and spent the evenings listening to stories from our guides Sam and Lots.
These were memorable moments to be sure, but so were the quieter proofs of home.
My parents falling into the rhythm of our lives: my mom venturing to the gym with the kids, my dad shooting hoops, my brother singing with us on the drive home from the airport. Anna feeding Larry the tortoise. Our dog Tuli sleeping at their feet. Familiar grocery runs, visiting our favorite spots, meeting our friends.
And the unexpected that we only discovered because of my mom: visiting a local church we hadn’t been to before. The congregation sang directly to us as a welcome. It was warm, powerful, and generous. (My mom cried. Not a surprise:) But I think we were all moved.
Their visit shifted something. I think not just for them, but for us. Maybe not in big, obvious ways, but when people you love see your life up close, it makes it feel a little more real. A little more solid.
I can’t wait until they come back.
