Sabrina Lloyd

I’ve missed this space. It’s been almost a year since we landed in Kenya. It’s been almost a year and we are headed home, back to my island paradise. I have so much I want to share. I have so much I want to get down, capture, to remember. I’ve been wanting to write… It’s been a hard year. A wonderful year. A year that has taught and tested and will be wrestled with for a while. So many words and so many stories and such full days and such tired nights and I’ve felt so far fro

I left my dog at his new home today. The lovely people who asked to take him have been waiting anxiously, their arms looking to pet and lead. I’ve kept hold, not wanting to let go. I finally had to let go. He needed to be in the home that will be his forever now. My dog now lives on a beautiful vineyard here on our island, overlooking the sea, his backyard rows of purple grapes and blueberry bushes. The goodbyes have begun. The letting go has started. This ex-pat life. This m

Uganda was familiar yet so much had changed. It still remains running in my blood, when I look at my daughter I am there, she wraps the county around me so I can still smell it and feel it, even long for it. I see in her the people I knew for 4 years, the people on the street, in the shops, walking along the road. I see them all when I look at her. And miss them. How lucky I am to have lived in the country my daughter is from for 4 years. To know that part of her. The city is

My get-up-and-go got-up-and-went. Bags packed, shoes on, heart empty on where I’ve been and filled up on where we were going and there’s a pause on the play. California will remain my temporary home for another two months. Today, I had to challenge myself. I’ve been here. I’ve done it. Seen it. Isn’t that what we think? As I paced the floor, wearing in my misery so deep that I seem to walk in a slope now, I thought perhaps I needed to get out. Taking my camera, I climbed the

When I was 15 I lived in Australia for a year as an exchange student. Already pounding against the boundaries of what I knew, I picked the furthest place I could, where I could still be understood. Plopped down in the outback, or very near to it, I went horse riding on a cattle ranch with my host family one weekend. I had grown up on horses. My first memories are the smell of dust and feel of wet, hot hair pressing against my legs. For leisure I would ride through old cow gra

I can’t seem to catch my breath; I collapse at night. While never exactly remembering sleeping before, the experience has always been tangible, as if I could reach backwards into the night just past and almost touch the place I had been. Now I fall into darkness and morning rushes towards me with no understanding of the in-between, of where I’ve just come from, so my days feel like an old torn screen on an cabin’s backdoor, eyes open at points with black holes I disappear int