Dear Migration,
I know I haven’t tried to contact you since you left in November. I’m sorry, my pride kept me away. You were right to leave me. I was taking you for granted, just like you said. I had no idea how hard life would be without you around. I’m so sorry I pushed you away. The rains came just after you left and the grass grew so tall without you here to mow it down. Half the time we can’t even find the hyenas, and when we can, we can’t ID them because the grass is so tall and thick its impossible to see their spots. Ticks are breeding like crazy and I’ve found six of them on me in the last two days. That never used to happen when you were around. I’m so sorry I took you for granted. I’m so sorry I pushed you away. I’m so sorry I let my pride get the best of me and didn’t contact you until now. I’m nothing without you and I miss you so much. Life in the Mara just doesn’t hold the joy it used to when you were here. Please please please come back home. I’m ready to take the next step and I'll do whatever it takes to show you I'm ready. I love you. Please come back.
Yours always,
Kenna
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Wildebeest: the lawnmower of Sub-Saharan Africa.
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