Reason 467 the World is in my backyard

This morning was no different as I drank coffee and predictably opened up social media to scroll through what I missed while sleeping. Then I saw them, my sweet friends in Kenya armed with pictures of African children with bald heads, dusty feet and joy filled white smiles. I unashamably am a sucker for pictures from missions trips as they often send my head in a foggy dream world of eating street food, foreign faces, hearing roosters and eating fresh mangos under a steady hum of accents. A part of me wished I had climbed in their suitcase. I wanted my own piece of Africa.
In the middle of this, I glanced up at the bouquet of fresh cut flowers staring at me. They were a recent purchase from the farmers market I planned to take to my new neighbor. I hoped I would run into her. The Dominican woman in my building ,who knows everyone, informed me she was African American.
Several hours and a few errands later, I returned home and noticed an unfamiliar woman with ebony skin coming down the stairs. As I introduced myself, she verified that she was my next door neighbor. I couldn't help but notice an accent, so instinctively I asked where she was from. "Kenya", she responds. Through my smile and stifling a noticeable giggle fit of irony I told her of my friends who were in Kenya traveling. This is where I think God laughed at me.
Before the day came to a close, I  took a second to write my friends in Africa. I asked them to hug a Kenyan child for me and told them in return I would greet my new Kenyan neighbor. God brought a piece of Africa to my door step.