It’s been too long since my last post, and my memory’s starting to blur at the edges, like a photograph left out in the sun. But certain moments from this second trip to Kenya still burn bright—vivid snapshots of connection, routine, and discovery that make me feel alive.
We kept going back to Brew, that cozy spot that’s become a ritual. One afternoon, we overslept after a nap, missing J’s invite to join her there. We woke up groggy, annoyed at myself, but Kaely’s laughter when I told her about it made it feel like no big deal. We share everything—our thoughts, our plans, our principles. It’s like we’re building something together, word by word, moment by moment. Transparency feels effortless with her. Like when My Reason sent me an empty email. I showed it to Kaely, not because it meant anything, but because hiding it felt wrong. She just nodded, her eyes saying she got it, no explanation needed.
One day, she showed me a hidden gem: a rooftop above the rooftop pool at our place. It’s a concrete slab with a view that stretches over Nairobi’s chaotic sprawl, the city’s pulse softened by the horizon. It instantly became my favorite workout spot. The air feels fresher up there, the world quieter. I’d push through sets of bodyweight exercises, sweat dripping, while the sky turned gold and pink at sunset.
Kaely’s got this habit now: around lunchtime, she pokes her head through the door, checking in. Her face lights up with that gorgeous smile when I wave her in, and my heart skips a beat every time. It’s the kind of moment you want to bottle up forever. She brings simple, perfect food—smokeys, boiled eggs, greens, and protein-packed plates that hit just right. Our meals are balanced, intentional, exactly how I like it. The takeout, though? It’s hit or miss, often leaning toward miss. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve trekked to Chandarella for water. It’s become my morning ritual—grabbing a bottle, exchanging a quick nod with the cashier, and heading back before the city fully wakes up.
One evening, I wasn’t paying attention. It had just gotten dark, and the rain was coming down in sheets. I stepped right into a hole in the street, my leg vanishing up to the knee. I laughed it off, soaked and muddy, but it was a reminder to stay sharp in a city that doesn’t slow down for anyone.
Those sunsets, though—they don’t quite match the fiery vibrance of the ones further north. They’re softer here, less intense, but still beautiful in their own way.
Then there was the day I stumbled across an outlet of my favorite Copenhagen restaurant while wandering Nairobi’s streets. It felt like a little piece of home had followed me here—a familiar spot in an unfamiliar place, like a bridge between two worlds I love.
Life feels great right now. I miss nothing. Kaely’s smile, those rooftop workouts, the rhythm of our days—it’s all enough. More than enough.
