Surprised to see this post, I’m sure. I’m sorry for the delay.
STORIES ONE & TWO – The King Women
I said before that my great aunt passed on? Well today was her burial and my 3 paternal aunts came to pay their last respects to her.
They got in yesterday, bringing peanut butter (which I immediately spread on my apple slices), amazing chin chin (so named because it is so apt) and lovely mangoes. I was at work when they got in and they went to my great aunt’s wake keep immediately afterwards.
I saw them later though.
But today was the day of the actual burial and I didn’t go to work.
First, we went to the church at Ebute Metta, (RCCG- Throne of Grace parish) where the church service took place. The pastor preached on preparing for death (I really liked the sermon), then we went to Ikoyi Cemetery which I actually entered. First time entering a cemetery. I wasn’t spooked, far from it. But when I saw that some burial plots were shared by 4 people in one case or 2 people who didn’t seem to know each other from anywhere (going by their dates of birth and death), it just reinforced my desire to be cremated.
I know that the important part of a human being is the soul and the spirit, that’s what animates you and draws people close to you or away from you but, for a plethora of reasons, when I die, I really want to be cremated.
Then to the reception, at the Yoruba Tennis Club. I’d never heard of it or visited before. But that just goes to prove that unfamiliar doesn’t always mean bad. And they have an Air Conditioner in the toilet!
I didn’t have breakfast so I ate:
Then we danced (Funny thing about that; someone would spray money on another, that other would collect the money and spray same money on yet another. Except me, of course. I’m not a big girl like that yet), then I helped share souvenirs (everyone took except for one Harvey Specter dress alike (no, I don’t watch Suits) who wore green native and spoke beautifully. Don’t have a crush either), then had a serious selfie session with yet another aunt:
Danced some more, ate a bit of her cream caramel (let’s just call it baked custard yeah? That was its name when I made it).
Took some more pictures for future happiness sake (something I do: where on happy days, I take silly pictures to view on serious or sad days. For instance:
And then we left.
STORY THREE – 🎵 It’s been a long day, without you my friend 🎵
I’ve mentioned Aisha here before. Anyway, the last time I heard from or saw her before yesterday, was in 2014?
After that day, I think she lost her phone or something of that nature cos I never saw or heard from her again.
That is, until yesterday when surprise surprise, she came to my office. Apparently, she knows my boss. Anyway, she stayed in my office for about 3 hours, made me take her to the bank and consider following her to Alade market and Oshodi. She’s a human whirlwind, I tell you.
And gosh, I was so happy to see her!
HAPPY FOURTH Picture? Story? Something
I like being happy, who wouldn’t like that? So, on BlackBerry, I follow pretty much every channel with Funny in its name (except that one that made that disgusting joke about women enjoying being raped). And I saw this, hehe:
STORY FIVE – 🎵 When I think about your mercy, and your faithfulness each dayyyyyy 🎵
For reasons I do not want to get into, I find myself a little bit broke. But the testimonies I’ve been receiving lately? Amazing. There was the time when I found a 1000 note in my wallet. I checked it earlier, there was nothing there, the new shoes I got yesterday; I’ve been planning to replace an old pair for about 3 weeks. The money I got sprayed today 😎🙌 etc.
I’d rather (have actually) starved before telling anyone to send me money. I’d much rather tell God.
And you know what? The Lord keeps providing for my needs according to HIS riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
“How can you say I did everything wrong? Until she ran out of there like a mad woman, we were having a very good time. What’s wrong with her, anyway?”
“There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. With. My. Sister”, she bits out through gritted teeth. “The. Problem. Is. With. You!”, she ends, finger pressed against my chest.
I raise my eyebrow. She drops the finger, takes a deep breath, exhales, flips her hair and sits down. “Did you ever think to wonder why I was glaring at you when you asked her out at the family lunch? I remember calling you twice later that day and not getting any response. Boma, the truth is, of all of us, Ebube is both the bravest and the most cowardly. She cannot stand to argue with anyone. She concedes immediately when you ask her to do anything, no matter how unpleasant. Whenever the choice comes down to fight or flight, Ebube will always flight. Always. Added to that, she’s incredibly shy. You do not ask someone who is incredibly shy out in public, in front of her family members who have all constantly expressed a desire to see her settled. The answer will always be yes. But the consequences will be far reaching.” At this point, she covers her face with her palm.
“Why do you all want her to settle down? And what do you mean by flight? And is that why Kelvin has been avoiding me?”
“I mean, that your knucklehead behavior is going to cause my sister to get on the next available bus, plane or flight and leave. That’s what I mean! And it does not surprise me that Kelvin has been avoiding you. He’s Ebube’s closest friend”
“She’s going to leave? Just like that?”
“Just like that. Ebube has always been predisposed to leaving places easily. This time she stayed almost a year. I guess I should be content with that.” Then she removes her hands from her face and tells me, “Let’s change the subject. Where’s the business plan?”
I stand before the door, a large plastic container filled with his favorite soup in hand. Then, hesitantly, I knock on the door. He opens it.
“Good afternoon Sir”
“Good afternoon dear. Come on in!”
I enter the house and hand him the container of soup.
He opens it, “You remembered!”
“Yes sir, I did”
“You don’t have to call me Sir. But if it makes you more comfortable, go ahead”
He brings out some biscuits and juice and sets it before me.
“It’s not as big as the spread you laid out for us, but please, help yourself”
“Thank you Sir”
“So, what’s this I heard about you and my son going on a date? I thought you were interested in me.”
For a moment, I stare at him, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. Then, I recognize that he’s joking.
“I was interested in you but you’re much too old for me”
And we laugh for a while, I start eating the biscuits and we start talking.
Over an hour later, Boma comes in. I l wait quietly for him to see me.
“Hi”, I say.
“I came to talk. Can we apologize?”
He looks at me funny then smirks at me and I go back over what I said.
“Sorry, I meant I came to apologize. Could we talk in private, you and I?”
“Sure. Give me a minute first”
Then he disappears into the belly of the house and reappears exactly a minute later wearing jeans and a T- shirt.
“I’ll leave the both of you to talk in peace”, his father says, before he leaves the house.
I notice that Boma looks torn. “Don’t worry about him, he’s going to the hospital for a check up”
He’s silent for a moment. “How do you know I was worried about him?”
“I can’t say I knew for sure, but I make a point of studying people and when you came to my house, every time your dad coughed, every time he reached for something, you kept staring at him in fear, like you were worried about him. So I suspected. Plus, I’ve been in the same position before. It was easier to see the signs”
“So, how did you convince him to go to the hospital?”
“I didn’t have to convince him. He was planning to go by himself”
“Well, thank you anyway”
“You mentioned that you wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Yes. I wanted to apologize for running out on you at dinner and I wanted to give you this”
She’s holding out an envelope to me. I take it, open it and simply stare at her. It’s difficult to swallow.
“Why did you give me this? I invited you out, I pay. What’s difficult to understand about that? It’s nice that you came here and although you say I shouldn’t, thank you for encouraging my dad to go to the hospital, but I think it would be best if you left now”
I expect some argument, or at least some emotion but it’s just as Bunmi had said. There’s nothing there.
“Well, once again, I’m sorry. And the I in ABIM Foods is Iris.”
Then she stands up and leaves.
And the money is still on the table.
It did not surprise me to hear the knock on the door that evening. Or to open the door and see Boma.
“I’m angry with you”
“I can see that”
“But I came to ask you something”
“Come inside first. This door is really heavy and it automatically locks after people enter or exit. Keeping it open is hurting my arm”
He comes inside.
“Do you plan on leaving the state anytime soon?”
“I guess you do, don’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, that you think you have me pegged”
“Not completely. But I’m doing something now so I’ll let you keep thinking it”
“What are you doing?”
I smirk at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would, actually”
“Come see then”
He follows me into the room I converted and now use as my home office.
“What are you doing?”
“My other job”
He comes around, sees the set up, the open browser windows. “You volunteer online?”
I nod. “You want some apples?”
“With peanut butter?”
“Definitely. Thank you.”
Then I go to prepare the snack while he peruses my work laptop.
It’s surprising. From what I can see here, she has a full operation going on. There are about 7 chats going on simultaneously. She’s in the process of typing a progress report and in one window, I can see that she’s researching something.
She comes back, balancing a tray filled with cashews, a bowl of apple slices, a jar of peanut butter, two bottles of yoghurt and some crackers. I help her put it on another part of the table. She leaves me and goes to the laptop, types something in. About 10 minutes later, she shuts the laptop down, then taking a pen, makes a mark on a note posted on a door.
I hand her a pre- buttered apple slice.
“Why are you leaving?”
“Why do you eat peanut butter when you react to peanuts?”
“It’s my favorite butter. And I said I have a slight reaction to them”
“If you stopped eating it, you wouldn’t have any reaction to them”
“I know. I’m willing to take the risk. Stop changing the subject”
“What was the subject?”
“Why you’re leaving?”
“Oh. I have a bit of wanderlust left in me”
“Okay. When are you leaving?” “Sometime next week”
“Why did you run away last night?”
“I remembered something I’d forgotten”
“What do you mean you forgot her? How can you forget your partner?”
“Because she’s dead”
“What are you sorry about?”
“It’s not my loss”
“Yes, it is. If you liked this person so much that the thought of you forgetting them made you run at the speed you did, it is your loss”
“You’d make a good psychoanalyst”
We butter more apple slices.
“So, where do you plan to leave to?”
“I’m thinking Calabar and Port Harcourt. I visited Calabar for about 3 days once and I loved what I saw of it”
“Why Port Harcourt?”
“Because I want to taste proper Fisherman soup”
I start laughing. She pops a buttered apple slice into her mouth.
“Of course I am. Eating a proper Fisherman’s soup is a serious experience that I believe everyone should have, at least once in their lives”
“I’m not going to argue with you on that score. But you’d really move to Port Harcourt because of a soup. Really?”
“No, I’d move to Port Harcourt because of Fisherman’s soup. My mom and Frank tasted it in Port Harcourt when they were dating and they did not let us hear word afterwards”
“You call your stepfather Frank?”
“No, I call my stepfather Frank or Pabby, depending”
“On how I feel around him that day”
“You’re a very simple and yet, fascinating person. I should study your brain sometime”
“Of course. As long as it remains attached to my body, you can study it as much as you’d like. Subject to my convenience, of course”
“Do you remember the first time we met?”
“Sure. You were proposing to my already engaged sister”
“That wasn’t the first time we met”
“Well then, I don’t remember”
“We met at your mom’s wedding. You were sitting next to the stacked chairs?”
“And you were staring at me!”
“I looked for you that day, where did you go?”
“To visit Iris”
“Oh, was she still alive at that time? Why didn’t you just invite her to the wedding?”
“I did. But it would have been hard for her to accept, rigor mortis, decomposing skin and all”
I drop the last apple slice I’d nabbed and had been about to put in my mouth. She gleefully picks it up and pops it into her mouth.
“That’s a nasty image.”
“I know, but you get used to it”
“So, when did she die?”
“Almost 5 years ago”
I cover her hand with mine, “Again, I’m sorry”
Between the both of us, everything on the tray has finished. He’s still holding my hand. I extricate it, stand up and carry the tray to the kitchen.
And when I turn around, there he is.
“Bunmi said you always flight”
“Bunmi doesn’t know everything about me either”
“She was right about something though, you hate conflict. When I asked you to leave the house, I expected an argument”
I stare at him, “I don’t believe in arguing. Most things are not worth arguing about. Household chores? I need something to do with my time, I exert energy, I keep off excess weight and whether or not I argue about it, I’ll still end up doing it. Politics? Pointless. People tend to vote for people they’ve already decided to vote for, regardless of anything anyone says to convince them otherwise. These days, the only things I think are important enough to argue about are things that will bring me money, things that will affect the wellbeing of the people I consider my family and things that actually upset me. Nothing else is worth arguing about as far as I’m concerned.”
“Well, it’s been nice hanging with you.”
“Exactly what day will you be leaving?”
“Saturday most probably, I want to say goodbye to my brother”
“Alright.” He pauses like he wants to say something to me, then turns around and leaves without another word.
On Friday afternoon, I hear the doorbell ring and I pause my last minute packing to answer the door. There’s no one there and I’m about to shut the door when I see the package on the floor. My name is on it in bold letters so I pick it up. “Ebube, I don’t say goodbye, especially to someone I haven’t said hello to properly. But you’re a special person, so I’m making an exception (just don’t expect me to say the word). I wanted to give you something to remember me by and then I realized that you need to remember something else too. It’s a personal electronic organizer. I programmed it to remind you to eat or have a snack three times every day. And should you want to talk, I’m always ready to listen. Please keep in touch. Boma
As I brush my teeth and wash my face and get ready for bed, there’s a beep on my phone. It’s a text message:
“Absolutely. Thank you for the organizer”
“Don’t bother thanking me”, I reply. I used your money to get it”
One of my all time, go to favorite romantic songs is The Little Things by Colbie Caillat. It’s so mellow and, her voice? It brings out such mushiness and all those quiet lovely feelings. I have danced with myself to this song. I have hugged myself very tightly to this song. So I want to dedicate this song to my one true love. My truest love.
Because God does the littlest and most profound things for me. He knows my top favorite love languages – Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation. And he affirms me on the daily. He builds me up. He is my happy.
He says to me, when I get on the bus, “Don’t sit there sweetheart, the conductor will join you on that seat so instead of 4, you’ll be 5, the passenger to the left will spread his legs wide and you won’t be able to move it. Sit on the far side of the left, by that window. You know how much you love fresh air”
He says to me, when I’m contemplating buying roadside shawarma and I’m looking at the meat, He says, “Please don’t get that. It looks like 2 straight days of purging to Me”
He says to me on Tuesday afternoon, when there is nothing for me to do at the office. He said, “Ask your boss for tomorrow off. You haven’t done anything today, your colleague is handling the matter tomorrow. If you come, you’ll spend time in the office not doing anything and when you finally go home you’ll be irritated and upset and you’ll have to wash your beautiful shirt that no one was able to admire”
So, I asked my boss for the day off. He agreed and what do you know, my friend tells me that we have CDS two days early on the Wednesday I asked to take off (See my GOD?)
He tells me, when the feeling of depression at the state of Nigeria come, when I hear one Nigerian woman start talking bad about another, he says, read that post. It makes you happy. It makes you hopeful.
He tells me, when the feelings of worthlessness come, he says, do you know how many people love you? How many people like you? Who will be there to open the gate for your mommy at 1AM? Who will decide to make pancake when your daddy has a bad day? Who will give the dog a massage and keep trying to get him to roll over? I know you’re feeling bad. But read this and the introduction to this. Remember the time you and Uche turned the camera around to take a selfie and Nedoux was asking what you were doing? (Hallmark funny! Lawl), remember that time you and Rita had a 30 minute argument, complete with voice notes about the correct way to say LOL? See how much you’re loved, liked, respected. Your work here is not yet done.
He reminds me, when Nonso is being irritating, “As much as possible, live in peace with him. Read this, calm yourself. Go to your room, listen to music. Ignore him.
He reminded me, when I was sewing,” Go and watch the finale of that Telemundo show. You’ll never see it again and you know you can’t understand more than basic Spanish”
He says, when I forget to eat, “Go and eat now, do you want to have ulcer again?” (I prayed the last one away. Yay! 🙌)
He answers me when I call on Him. He is kind. He is firm. He loves me.
The worst times I’ve ever had were preceded by the feelings that God had left me. That no matter how hard I searched for him, I wouldn’t find him.
We talk everyday, usually more than once. It’s very important for me to keep that connection alive.
And more than that, to do the Little things He loves too.
The little things, you do to me are
Taking me over, I wanna show ya
Everything inside of me
Like a nervous heart that, is crazy beating
My feet are stuck here, against the pavement
I wanna break free, I wanna make it
Closer to your eyes, get your attention
Before you pass me by
(back up, back up) take another chance,
Don’t let me (mess up, mess up) I don’t wanna lose you
(wake up, wake up) this ain’t just a thing that you
(give up, give up) don’t you say that I’d be
Better off better off, sleeping by myself and wondering
If I’m better off better off, with out you God
And every time, you notice me by
Holding me closely, and saying sweet things
I don’t believe, that it could be
You speaking your mind and, saying the real thing
My feet have broke free, and I am leaving
I’m not gonna stand here, feeling lonely but
I don’t regret it, and I won’t think this
Was just a waste of time
Don’t just leave, me, hanging on [repeat]
Don’t just leave me hanging on
(back up, back up) take another chance,
Don’t let me (mess up, mess up) I don’t wanna lose you
(wake up, wake up) this ain’t just a thing that you
(give up, give up) don’t you say that I’d be
Better off, better off sitting by myself & wondering (don’t just leave me hanging on)
If I’m better off, better off without you God (don’t just leave me hanging on)
Don’t just leave me hanging on [repeat ’til end] *
Culled from azlyrics.com Edited by Obianuju J. Ayalogu.
Whatever else you know, know that God will never leave you or forsake you. If you can’t find him, start searching, retrace your steps and when you find him, hold him and tell him, “Daddy, I’m sorry I let you go, please hold my hand and never let me go” (I very strongly believe that this prayer was what stopped me from walking in front of that truck on August 15th, 2014. Because if God is holding your hands, how can you walk in front of a truck?)
Happy Easter everybody!
Today was the date. I was very nervous and I couldn’t shake a weird feeling I’d had since I noticed that Kelvin seemed to be actively avoiding me.
Ebube had said she’d prefer to meet me there instead of being picked up. So I agreed and when I closed from work, I drove straight there. I was early by 10 minutes, she was late by a minute. Still, she came into the restaurant apologizing so profusely that I wondered if she was apologizing for something more than she was letting on. She kept apologizing. So I leaned towards her, intending to kiss her cheek but she turned her head and it landed on her lips. She jerked back very suddenly and stared at me like I had meant to stab her. And then I started to apologize. She holds up her hand. I stop. Then she smiles and says hello.
We sit down at the bar while we wait for our table to be prepared. Ebube takes a very deep breath, closes her eyes then dramatically exhales. When she opens them, they’re twinkling and she’s smiling.
“I’m so sorry. I’m late and I’m nervous. But I just realized that you’re probably nervous too. So, let’s start over. My name is Ebube and your name is Boma. You’re friends with my elder sister and I really like your father. That’s the only thing we know about each other. Care to expand my knowledge?”
I smile and relax. Everything will work out fine.
When I woke up this morning and stood up from my bed, I noticed that the area I had slept on was covered in blood. I was quite upset. I had been too tired to do more than get to the bed, fall on it and sleep, I hadn’t even noticed the twinges on my lower belly, a sure sign that my unfertilized ovum would present themselves to me soon. And when I woke up to see them, my eyes magnified the bleeding typical of every first day of menstruation that I panicked, checking myself all over to see if I had any cuts or lacerations. I did not. So, I cleaned myself, balled the bedsheets up and tossed them in the washing machine. Then I went about doing my current volunteer project, counseling people online via live chat sessions.
Last night I’d had to counsel a young girl not to commit suicide after she was raped and became pregnant. I had to beg her not to kill herself. Beg her to let someone know the circumstances of the pregnancy. I was still very worried about her and when she ended the conversation I began to intercede for her life.
Though it breaks my heart; their stories and the ones who ignore my advice, I feel such joy when I wake up and I know that someone else will wake up today and confront their problems head on instead of killing themselves.
I had to chat with the girl again. She had told her mom and while her mom was happy she hadn’t committed suicide, she was insisting on an abortion. So I counseled her on that too. I coached her on what to say (she wanted to keep the baby and decide what to do from there) and when and how to say it and when the phone call ended, I went on my knees interceding for her baby too. When I opened my eyes and stood up, I was wracked with abdominal pain. I had to drag myself to the kitchen and pour myself a full glass of milk. The ulcer warnings are getting more and more frequent and I honestly wish I knew how to remind myself to eat.
After that, I talk to a boy whose friends want him to join them in a suicide pact, with a mother who feels like running away from her baby because she has dreams that she’ll kill him. I found out that the true problem is that she married a dead weight who lets her work 2 jobs in addition to being a mother and taking care of the house without ever lifting a finger to help her.
By the time I’m done talking to all these people, I take a walk, in turns praying and reminding myself that I have a life to live myself. If I don’t do this, I’ll burn out and become even more of a recluse than I already am. Then I look at my watch, it is an hour to my date with Boma and I hate to be late. Well, normally.
I’d already chosen my outfit, a lovely top with a gold belt and white formal trousers but seeing as I was on my period, I hunt down my formal red trousers instead. Lucky for me, the shirt complements both colours very well.
I get into my car, turn the ignition before I realize that I have forgotten where I’m supposed to meet Boma.
Calling him to ask wouldn’t speak very well of me then I remember that I’d written it down when he called me to set it up.
So I turn off the car and go back into the house. What was I doing when he called me? Cooking? No. Baking? No. Carrying food? Yes. Okay, what did I do after that? I had a bottle of soybean milk, then I noticed after taking it, that the carton was empty so I started making a shopping list to remind myself to get another one and that was when it occurred to me to write the address of the place. Where did I leave that note? I went to my room, searching my memory bank, it was early morning, I was going out that day. Closet? Deodorant? Perfume! I left it under the perfume bottle.
Then I check the vanity table and sure enough, it’s right where I left it.
I run down, get into the car and rush to the place. I get there 3 minutes before time and I turn off the car, take a deep breath and watch the restaurant. Before I know it, my eyes are glazed and unfocused and I’m wondering why I have had such a bad feeling today.
Then I see the stop light of a vehicle and I get out of the car and into the restaurant.
“Is it time to ask all those first date questions that sound like an interrogation?” I ask.
She looks at me quizzically then she smiles and says, “I personally prefer to ask and answer those type of questions when I have a drink in my hand”
“Then it’s a good thing the waiter is coming. Are you hungry?”
The waiter came, we ordered our foods and our drinks.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Why did you order a milkshake?”
“I had an ulcer warning earlier today and to be on the safe side I’m restricting all my drinking to dairy products”
“You don’t strike me as the worrying type. Is your job stressful?”
“Sometimes, I am. And yes, sometimes it is”
“What do you do? What’s your job description?”
“What do I do? I analyze people, talk to them, counsel them. My job description? I’m a psychotherapist. Back at you. What did you study? What do you do?”
“I studied Business Management. I did a diploma in law and then I got an Masters in Economic Development. I was in the process of starting a business abroad when my mom fell sick. So I came home and now I work at a company here. You might know it. It’s called ABIM Foods.”
She stares at me, lips pursed. What did I do wrong now? Then she smiles uncertainly. “I’ve heard of it. Do you like it there? Do they treat you well?”
“Well, I love my job. I like my colleagues a lot but I haven’t met the “they” as far as I know. So the second question is up in the air. I mean, it’s a lovely concept that birthed the company, truly. But I don’t believe that the owner is particularly serious about the company if he/she hasn’t bothered to check on the company for almost 4 months. I mean, who does that?”
Her face is impassive now. Our drinks arrive and she takes the time to dazzle the waiter with a smile and suddenly I’m jealous. She didn’t smile that brightly at me.
“I can actually see your point about the owners of the company. But you’re wrong about one thing. You have met three of them”
“I don’t understand. When did I meet them?”
“Well, you’re very good friends with one, you’re on a date with another and you met the last one at brunch last week”
“Ouch! Is it too late to tell you all the reasons I love my job?”
She starts laughing.
I was angry with him for a minute there. I mean, he wasn’t there when I started the company. He didn’t see the hours I put in. I was involved in every stage of the company’s birth. Every. Single. Stage. And he had the nerve to criticize?
The waiter brings our drinks and while I reach out to take the drinks, I smile and admit that he’s right.
Since Kelvin had stepped in for me, I was barely involved in the affairs of the company. The only thing I did faithfully was read the fortnightly email he sent me. My attendance at the monthly meeting wasn’t even stable. I was pulling away. He had pointed it out. Was I going to punish him for it? I looked at his face. There was no malice, just him declaring his opinion. And the fact that his opinion upset me did not make it a bad one or any less truthful.
So I tell him. He makes a joke and we settle down.
I suddenly remember my oversight.
“You said you came home because your mother was sick. How is she now? Is she alright?”
I took his hand. “I know firsthand just how awful it is when someone you love dies. I’m sorry about your mother. I’d have loved to meet her.”
“Thank you. She would have loved to meet you too”
The food arrives. And the conversation gets easier and flows more freely.
I ask him to tell me how Bunmi and Patrick met.
“Well Patrick was my closest friend. And he’s also the only friend I’ve had since childhood that made it to adulthood with me. When Bunmi and I became friends, I’d tell him jokes Bunmi had told me, give him advice on issues Bunmi had given me. So, he was interested and he wanted to meet her already. Then one day; she asked me to get her something she wanted. But at the time it was to be delivered she had traveled. So I sent it to him instead and gave her his number. When she called him, he told her he wouldn’t release it to her unless she met him for drinks. That’s the short version of how they met”
“Normal, casual. No juice. Tell me the long version.”
“The long version has to do with what she ordered me to deliver”. Then he stirs his drink and sips it so casually, so slowly that I growl at him.
He’s sipping his drink when I growl and he chokes, laughing.
“Fine!”, he says. “I’ll tell you now. Bunmi ordered a wedding dress”
Now, I’m choking on my drink. “I can’t see her doing that. Oh, wait, I completely can”
“That’s nice. Now, can you please explain it to me? I’m lost.”
He’s telling jokes and I’m laughing and telling some of my own until the bill comes. There’s something special going on here. At least for me.
He then asks me, “Since you’re one of the owners, I’d like to ask, what does ABIM stand for. I guess now that the A is for Amara, the B for Bunmi, but what about I and M”
“The M stands for Me and the I stands for …”
“Her face whitens and she runs out of the restaurant.
“What did I do wrong?”, I ask Bunmi.
“Everything”, she replies. “Absolutely everything”
This is the Easter period. And there are a lot of children who want to go for Easter festivities whose parents cannot afford to pay their way. If you want to, you can contribute to sending one of them.
When I was younger, I thought Brandy sang this song (Everything I do). Then I found Bryan Adams’ version. Adaezenwa might impale me but I much prefer Brandy’s version. It’s loads more soulful and incites all the happy mushiness that the Bryan Adams’ version doesn’t. I heard it on the radio in the bus today and before I knew it I was screeching singing along. It distracted me and tipped the balance between starting a mad at my seat partner (he ask me stewpid question, the park is smelly so I shake my head and don’t answer. He ask me another stewpid question. I still don’t answer. He say he be talking to me, don’t I have anything to say at all? Then I answer. I tell him, you and I, we don’t have to talk about anytin. He leaf me alone. Me is happy) or continuing in my happy girl bubble.
The DJ followed it up with songs I knew and loved until I was about to get down when the station switched to songs I’d never heard and wasn’t sure I liked. Happy girl bubble! Yay!
Speaking of which, I like brandy as a preservative. Made cakes a month back or earlier and they haven’t gone bad yet because we added a generous addition of brandy to them. I should add it to my fried rice sometime. Whatcha think?
Here are the lyrics. I want to dance to this song with my boyfriend. It’s so beautiful! And yes, Adaezenwa, I know God is love.
Look into my eyes – you will see
What you mean to me.
Search your heart, search your soul
And when you find me there you’ll search no more.
Don’t tell me it’s not worth tryin’ for.
You can’t tell me it’s not worth dyin’ for.
You know it’s true:
Everything I do, I do it for you.
Look into your heart – you will find
There’s nothin’ there to hide.
Take me as I am, take my life.
I would give it all, I would sacrifice.
Don’t tell me it’s not worth fightin’ for
I can’t help it, there’s nothin’ I want more
You know it’s true:
Everything I do, I do it for you, oh, yeah.
There’s no love like your love
And no other could give more love.
There’s nowhere unless you’re there
All the time, all the way, yeah.
Look into your heart, baby…
Oh, you can’t tell me it’s not worth tryin’ for.
I can’t help it, there’s nothin’ I want more.
Yeah, I would fight for you, I’d lie for you,
Walk the wire for you, yeah, I’d die for you.
You know it’s true:
Everything I do, oh, I do it for you.
Everything I do, darling.
You will see it’s true.
You will see it’s true.
Search your heart and your soul
You can’t tell it’s not worth dying for
I’ll be there
I’d walk the fire for you
I’d die for you
I’m going all the time, all the way.
Imagine a really short dwarf who, for fingers, has needles and blades. But this dwarf is madly in love with you and every blessed time he sees you, he runs to give you a big hug. And in the process of hugging you, you are so very badly hurt. Every time. The dwarfs’ love and adoration are magnified though, if he hasn’t seen you for a day. I learned that the painful way on Sunday. I didn’t go anywhere but the memory of his claws had me restricting all movement to the interior of the house. Not the compound. And the next day, when finally saw me, he lay on my leg and refused to allow me move, fought with my shoes, ran in between my legs and gave me a triple dose of “love” (the painful kind). I had to push him away multiple times before he got the message. It’s lots better when you play with him until he gets tired. We’re talking 45 minutes to 1 hour, 30 minutes here.
In case you still haven’t realized it, the dwarf is Michelangelo. And his claws are INSANELY PAINFUL.
Background- When I’m in my house, i wear shorts. Not trousers, not skirts. Shorts, because peace, freedom, privacy and glorious AIR!
So, the problem I have with this short dwarf are manifold. I actually adjusted my dress sense, wearing trousers when I’m at home, instead. But the claws, they still rake across my skin. And, the dog’s paws are not Lysol clean or Dettol Fresh either.
His cuteness makes up for so much. Honestly.
STORY TWO: I am the fire hydrant
In some American movies I’ve watched, when they want to potty train the dogs, they’ll walk him down the street to a nearby fire hydrant, shield him with a pillow then allow him to let loose. Dogs love fire hydrants apparently.
So, I’ve been trying to get Mikey potty trained. Mostly me trying to contain his shit blasting area. Sorry for that visual. It would make everyone’s life loads easier if he simply went to the gutter. And I’ve succeeded. Somewhat. It’s not the gutter but at least it’s not his cage either.
Then one day, I had CDS and I was wearing my Jungle boots (the white tennis shoes did not fit me so I gave them out). Mikey ran up to me and did his little ritual while I scratched and pet him. Then I noticed that he had done a little more than normal.
He. Peed. On. My. Left. Jungle. Boot!
I didn’t even notice until he left, chasing my dad and then when I started laughing, he came back, did another little ritual and then peed on my right jungle boot.
Since then, I’ve noticed that he can pause his urination, chase me and when he catches me, he’ll release it as soon as I begin to rub him. His Kegel exercises are really paying off!
STORY THREE: The long, beautiful and happy journey
To a person who likes to walk (me), there’s no greater motivation or dare than increased prices or missing buses/kekes.
Yesterday, I woke up in such a great mood. It was raining so, instead of my usual walk to the bus park, I had to take a bike there. I boarded a bus, and then when I got to my drop off point; where I needed to take a tricycle or a bus, there were none. So, I began walking. Then I met one that was willing to take me, for double the price. I laughed and continued walking. I found one later though that took me for the usual fare. Even I was not going to walk from Allen all the way to Opebi in the morning. Nahh.
But by far, the more interesting journey was in the afternoon/early evening. I work at Opebi. There are 3 routes available to me everyday: Opebi to Ikeja, Ikeja- Berger (too irritating with all the touchers, higher price range, greater incidences of getting other people’s body fluids on me by accident. For use in desperate situations only), the other two are my go- to routes. But most times, I prefer one over the other. The Opebi to Oregun, Oregun to Berger. I get to exercise my legs and the fare is cheaper!
There were no tricycles going. I waited for a while, then I started walking. Branched to a couple of places first though, before I hit the trail. Then someone, I’d seen him waiting for a keke on two different days, who had apparently made the same decision I had, started calling me. He was standing on the walkway embankment, making a phone call. I was mounting the embankment when he extended his hand, blocking my path. I shook it for the amount of time required by politeness and then I turned to go and he was still holding it. Tightly, like I was a hostage. I tugged it loose and told him how much I detested that
(Public Notice: I hate uncomfortably long handshakes with people I don’t know. I. HATE. IT! And it was obvious to me that he was trying to delay me until he finished his phone call). He apologized. I accepted. Then he began to ask me Jamb questions. I know that quite a lot of you must be wondering what a story of an episode that seems so irritating is doing on Happy Tuesdays. But, I was happy. I was wearing a corporate shirt, a camisole and my mom’s vintage full circle skirt (it’s very high quality satin and she used to wear it when she was my age. I appropriated it about 6 years back, with her blessing).
Among the questions he asked that day were gems such as these:
“Where are you from?”
“You’re Igbo? I thought you were Yoruba or Delta”
“Why do you let people think that you’re Yoruba? Why do you make them think it?”
“You walk fast for a woman. Who did you learn walking fast from?”
“Are you a student? A lawyer? Do you know that some people think law students are wicked?”
“Do you know some people say that lawyers won’t go to heaven? What do you think about it?”
I should have been angry, I’m sure one of you is thinking that. But I was happy. And really, it wasn’t much trouble to calmly answer this man.
Then I saw IT in its glorious splendor. I’ve been passing by it for a while but I was always in a vehicle and always doing something. I wasn’t doing anything now so I went inside. The security guard was the only one around and he let me sit on them.
IT is a bicycle. An electric bicycle. I’ve wanted to get a bike for years but a bike that can be used as a bike and as a motorcycle that doesn’t need gas? I’m in love!
I sat on a lot of them, gushed over one particular pretty one with handlebars, a passenger seat and lots of leg room. I almost completely forgot about the question asker. I stayed in there for over 10 minutes and when I came out, he had left. This, might I add, was a very good development because he was gunning to ask for my number, I would most probably have given him a fake one, then felt bad for giving him a fake one, and it would have affected my very lovely mood on a very lovely day when I was wearing a very lovely outfit and on a happy high.
So, it was very lovely that he left. The rest of the journey was completed in happiness.
I’ve been researching electric bicycles since yesterday and gosh, I’d love one!
STORY FOUR: Mikey, The Shredder
I fancy myself a gardener. When I was small, primary school age, Chike showed me a plant that folded up into itself when touched. I’d never seen anything like it before. We planted hibiscus flowers (red ones), aloe vera, shrubs, natural cortex (this is not the name, it’s just what I called it) and some more and I’d lovingly take care of them. In secondary school. Then one day, I got home and someone had whacked off most of my plants in the name of weeding. The hibiscus hasn’t flowered again. I cried. Then I did some research. When I make spaghetti or potatoes or macaroni, foods with a high starch content needing parboiling, I save their water and water each of the plants. Starch is great for most plants.
I got into University and I forgot my gardening pretensions.
Then one day, in 2012 or 2013, I can’t remember; my mom brought home 4 lavender plants (that’s what they said they were called). We potted them in cups. A friend of hers had mentioned that they were very effective in getting rid of mosquitoes. It stayed inside for about 2 days then she took it outside or was it me? They weren’t getting enough sunlight. And their soil was dirtying the house.
From then on, I talked to them, watered them, weeded them. It was a miniature version of my hibiscus flowers all over again. The very first time they flowered, was on my birthday. I felt they were giving me a precious gift. Look at us. Admire us. Happy birthday!
Then last week, tragedy struck. Mikey is teething now. My flowers were in cups on the floor. When he got tired of chewing our slippers, our rags, he munched on my flowers. I managed to rescue two of the cups, though. I’ve put them back on the A. C stand.
STORY FIVE: It’s a beautiful day
Woke up this morning, said thank you to God for waking me up, brushed, had cereal (Golden Morn, which Mikey also takes) went outside to scratch and be scratched, had a bath, walked to the bus park, bought Ghana buns (he gave me an extra one!), boarded a bus with change, dropped, boarded another one to Opebi. He said my preferred stop was an extra #20 so, I asked to be dropped at the normal one instead but when I got down, he told me to get back in and he’d take me to my preferred stop, I did, he did, I told him thank you, crossed the road, got water, the water was cold, got to the office, there was light and the air conditioner was on.
It’s just a beautiful day. And I’m happy.
Hope you are too!
It’s terrible manners to begin to chew food then let it fall back onto your plate. Once, I went on a date with someone who was nice, a Christian and handsome to boot but then, he did that in front of me when I told him I planned to start a company.
He then proceeded to pick up the bit of food, and put it back in his mouth. And just like you watch a train wreck when you can do nothing about it, I watched. In turns fascinated and utterly disgusted.
And then he proceeded to tell me why he didn’t think I could start a company. Would I have time for my family? Would it not intimidate men? What of the man who would marry me? How would I get the money? Would my husband be able to trust me? At that point I was utterly fascinated and yet, I had lost my appetite. The way he was chewing, it gave me horrible goosebumps. And then, when he was done, when my leftovers had been packed up and the bill was brought, he happened to mention that for what I had ordered, he deserved a good gift and he winked at me. I smiled dazzlingly at him. I hate to argue. Especially when the arguments are pointless. I truly do. And if someone had gotten to 29 years of age and still had this kind of mentality?
So I smiled at him, brought out my purse right then and paid him for everything he had ordered for me. Then, I ignored his baffled look and proceeded to order a sorbet to go. By the time it came, I was very thoroughly and very calmly engaging him in a conversation about his misogynistic views. I shared no personal details though. But it was important to me that the last view he had of me was not entirely unpleasant. I did not want to taint his perception of women even further. And I didn’t. I’m proud of that till this day, even though the way he chews gives me goosebumps every time I think of it.
At this point, everyone has stopped eating, is subtly glancing between me and Boma, seeing how I’ll react. And then I notice his hands, he’s clutching his fork really tightly. Aww. Does it mean this much to him? Apparently it does. But there’s no way I’m going to give him a reply in front of my whole family.
“Could we talk about this later?”
Then I stare pointedly at Amara who takes the hint and begins to ask Boma what he thinks about the food.
And everybody resumes eating. I sneak a look at Boma. Whatever else, he chews his food properly.
I didn’t mean to blurt it out. It was just such a relief to hear that she was unattached that I wanted to ask her out before someone else got to her.
After I had said it, I noticed a change in the atmosphere. Everyone suddenly perked up and she got a speculative look in her eye before she told me we’d talk about it later.
Then we finished our meal and I did my utmost best to avoid the glare Bunmi was giving me.
When the meal was over, I took my time ferrying plates to the kitchen and cleaning up the table. It’s rare for me to be in this kind of situation and I need the extra time to debate the benefits of going on a date with someone I really wanted to friendzone. Plus, I wanted to have an opportunity to do small shakara.
I walked him to his car afterwards.
“I spoke with your dad yesterday”
“I’ve never seen him take a liking to someone as fast as he did to you”
“I wouldn’t know. But he reminds me of someone I used to love”
“Erm, do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Not at all. But you asked me a question and I wanted to give you my answer. Yes, I’ll go out with you. We’ll see where it goes from there”
Little Sisters of the Poor (A Home for the elderly) needs hygiene products, medication etc or the monetary equivalent.
Their account details are: Name (Little Sisters of the Poor)
This year, I asked God for ideas. And to shine through whatever I post.
Just like Happy Tuesdays, this is going to be a thing. It just will not be regularly scheduled. As inspiration strikes, I’ll write.
Last year, I was scrolling. I don’t remember the blog name now, but they (there were 3 writers) had a post that was interesting to me. They each took a picture of a visible scar on their body and thanked it.
I forgot about it but recently the idea has cropped up. I’ve been feeling super grateful recently and I want to inspire someone.
I’m a hermit sometimes. I burrow deep into my cave and snooze, read, or laugh away. Why? Because I choose to be.
Growing up, I found that most of the time I stepped out of my house, I’d be irritated, harassed or I’d have something weird happen to me. It was easier and loads more fun for me to stay in my house instead. Yes, my house, room mostly, is my happy place.
Even when stuff happened in my house, even when the handshake extended way past the elbow, it is still my happy place.
Speaking of stuff, I’ve been thinking and yes, feeling grateful to the lesson teacher of shamed lore recently.
I’ve forgiven him. I even prayed for him. But I don’t like him at all. And I probably never will.
However, I’ve been feeling very grateful.
Because he does have something to do with all of this. I’m a hermit because I realized early on that my family and our home is my safe haven.
And while there’s no guarantee of safety at your house instead of outside, I’m happy I found something I liked really early on.
I’m also grateful to him, for making me question everything. Every motive. The Bible says to test the spirits. I know how many problems I have sidestepped, learning to watch people silently. And undoubtedly, there are more.
So, I thank him, because while he remains a scar, a blight in my mind whenever I remember, I have learned to live and thrive with him. So thank you. Andupyours!
Since I resumed work today, I’ve been feeling disconnected, like I’m floating instead of walking. Kelvin smiled at me when I got in, and we shook hands in passing but I admit; it felt odd relating with him as normal. I felt like he’d stolen my girl, except that she had never been my girl.
So I kept busy. I finished all my assigned tasks earlier than normal, around 11AM, then helped a newly married colleague finish hers. The speed at which she ducked out, I didn’t have to ask where she was going. It was barely 1pm at this time. I was done for the day and for tomorrow as well. I’d left pretty early before but never this early.
Fortuitously for me, just that moment, Bunmi called me. Apparently she had made lunch for her family; all of whom seemed to be able to skip work on a Monday afternoon with no repercussions, and I was invited as well.
So I waved my colleagues goodbye and left. The drive to the address Bunmi had given me was made in under 20 minutes. I only stopped to buy her a basket of fruits because as I recalled, she was very vocal in her disapproval of people who come into your house, eat your food and drink whatever they can get their hands on and bring nothing for you. I got there early enough, perhaps too early because she almost immediately put me to work setting the table. My instructions were, I quote: “Arrange the table really good. Improve the ambiance”. Giving her the fruits earned me a thankful smile and an excited, “I can make smoothies with this! Thank you!”
The lunch was slated for 1:30pm but by 1:45pm, none of her family members had shown up. Then Patrick comes in, looking harried and flustered. Joker. He’s been sitting outside in his car, windows wound up and air conditioner presumably on, for the past 3 minutes. I caught sight of him through one of the picture windows. But here he is, giving Bunmi a kiss on the cheek while rustling fried plantains from the plate.
I smile in satisfaction when he loudly yelps and Bunmi blows him an irreverent kiss.
Then the rest of the family begins to trickle in. First, the mother. I stand up to greet her while Patrick sweeps her into his arms and begins to dance to non- existent music. I notice her stepfather outside struggling to carry a large carton and a small package simultaneously and I go to help him carry one of them. There, I meet a man I don’t recognize but judging by the way he greets Bunmi’s stepfather and takes the package from him, I suspect he’s a family member as well.
I’m inside the kitchen asking Bunmi where to put the carton when it lands on the tabletop with a thud. Ebube is here, arms around a woman who looks a little like Bunmi.
I made sure to arrive late but early enough to ensure that Patrick wouldn’t finish all the fried plantain before I got there. In a lot of previous family gatherings, where I wasn’t hosting and Bunmi was, I’d arrive first or Patrick would and we’d get all the undesirable jobs. Sweeping the house (always the house because why sweep only one room when there’s so much time to spare), “improving the ambiance” (which Bunmi was fond of ordering me to do and was hardly ever satisfied with) and pounding yam. Once, I got there late because I overslept and got stuck in traffic and I didn’t have to do anything at all. It was so pleasurable and every time Bunmi is hosting I trade in my normal time consciousness and embrace my African roots.
I hear a dull thud and I look up, completely unsurprised to see Boma. Since Kelvin’s declaration yesterday, it clicked what Bunmi had so mysteriously said about him telling me a story. Bunmi was trying her hand at matchmaking.
I smile at him, remove my hand from Amara’s shoulder, then pinch Patrick who hands me a fork with six plantains on it and I bite off three.
“Hi…. Boma!” I say, fanning my hand over my mouth. Patrick sticks out his tongue and laughs in mischievous glee.
Boma, mouth twitching, moves close to me and begins to help me fan my mouth. I give him a soft punch to his stomach before I remember that we’re not friends. Yet. So I apologize and bite off the remaining 3 plantains.
These lunches became a thing because of me. While I was wandering through the country and outside it, I’d come back for a day then fly off somewhere else. It was nomadic and completely stress free. I sometimes took on jobs but i made sure they were for a short term and whenever I volunteered, it was always short- lived or online.
Because the instability of my trips back home made me a distant face, whenever I came home, whoever i was staying with, my mom or my dad, would call the other and we’d have a family lunch. Amara was dating then and as her cake and pastry business had become a juggernaut, she hardly had time to spend with her dates, then boyfriend (now husband) so she proposed that we all be allowed to bring a friend or a boyfriend if we chose. It was accepted. I fear it is becoming mandatory. Everyone in my family really seems to want to see me married.
I pull myself out of my thoughts. Boma has been talking to me.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, Bunmi told me that this is a family lunch but there’s an allowance for friends or dates. I’m not sure which category you fall into. So I was asking”
“Oh! I’m the baby of the family. Well, technically not the baby but… ”
“Hello everyone!” Kelvin interrupts.
Once again, I begin to feel disconnected. The minute he bounds through the door, holding a plastic bag, I lose my good mood and the floating feeling returns.
I’m not the kind of man who steals a friend’s girl. I refuse to be. But I watch him kiss Ebube’s cheek and watch her smile and rub his beard, and I know I’ll be leaving early.
Soon, we’re seated at the table. Everyone is making such a big fuss over him, you’d think they hadn’t seen him in a year.
Then Ebube turns to smile at me, her hand draped over his chair, “I know you met yesterday but I’m not sure you were introduced. Boma, this is my childhood friend Kelvin. Kelvin, this is Boma, Bunmi’s friend”
“Will you go out with me?”
I wasn’t sure I’d post anything today. Coming off 5 days of a serious migraine and attendant issues: fever, inflamed gums, toothache, eye aches etc. I’m at the end stage of the braces journey and I’ve never felt this kind of pain before.
Some people blurt their dirtiest secrets to their colleagues, the bartender, the cab/Uber guy. I’ve got a dentist (specialist in orthodontics). If you were a patient at LUTH and you had braces, chances are you know him. Anyway, Dr. Uzo was the very first doctor I felt comfortable with. Maybe it was the fact that he smiled, maybe it’s the fact that he’s kind, maybe it’s the fact that he has my time. Maybe it’s the fact that he does not stand on ceremony. Maybe i just like him.
So, on Thursday last week, I had a dental appointment and after the dental stuff was completed, we sat down for our usual gist session. Then he had to go somewhere to do something and i was leaving through the same place. So we walked and talked and when we got to his car, he opened the boot to put his dental equipment (Dear Public Hospitals, please provide dental equipment and tools for your doctors, yeah. It’s shameful that they have to each buy theirs. Thank you!) and I saw something shiny.
It’s a set of salad bowls. He was obviously looking for someone to give it to and I showed interest (in the packaging), so see my salad bowls everyone. It almost makes me want to start experimenting again. Almost.
And sure, I didn’t need it when he gave it to me, beggedmetotakeitoffhishands but later events that day made me soooo grateful for it.
So I’ve mentioned the dog in passing before. The truth is the dog is a 9 week old puppy named Mikey. His full name is Michelangelo. Yes, I named him after a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. My brother said that. I only call him by his full name when he’s irritating me.
When we first got him, about a month ago, he was scared and his first night, I went to check on him only to see that he was trying to escape. How cute. So he sleeps inside the house at night.
The dog, puppy actually, has developed a ritual which must be respected. The minute anyone he has gotten comfortable with steps outside the house or steps inside the house, you must stand still while he runs around your leg three times, licking them both. If you don’t, he bares his admittedly adorable little teeth and growls at you. In the month we’ve had him, the first week was dedicated to him trying to run away. I’d go close to him and read to him (so he’d get comfortable hearing the sound of my voice) and he’d growl at me, I’d laugh at him, he’d whimper and then rest his head on his paws.
He let me touch him on the 5th day but until the day i gave him his second bone, he and I were not as close as we could be.
These days, he stands up on his hind legs whenever he sees me. And quite often I get the feeling that he wants me to carry him like a baby, the way Nonso does
But nahh, I’m not going to succumb.
So Wife Material Season 3 ended. Go read it please. The story is awesome. And like I suspected, there was a divorce. Two actually but I wholly supported one. Still, since I started working (this is not a confession about how I hate my job. I actually really like it), I’ve seen a couple of divorce cases and had my heart broken by the facts. I’m not going to go into the details but they were ultra depressing.
It’s just made me realize that marriage is what you make it and there are 2 sides to every story.
To protect your sanity sha, please don’t get married to someone unless you know them inside out, upside down. Because, if not, you just may find yourself getting married to a HIV positive thief. I don’t agree that love is blind. But even if it is, don’t go into marriage blindly. Please.
So both arms of my extended family are super duper uber close. I’ve said this before, I have a lot of mothers and a lot of fathers. I just haven’t said it here. And consequently I have a ton of cousins.
Anyway, earlier this evening, my uncle on my mom’s side called her, and while i was eating, I noticed that my mom was making those ultra surprised/ scared noises you make when you’re hearing bad news. But then again, my mom is very dramatic.
The gist of the story is: Chike (my cousin Chike, not my brother) and Ikenna (cutie) were on the road. It was raining heavily, the car skidded, then somersaulted multiple times. The car is a write off but my cousins are hale, hearty and jokey.
Thank you God.
When I started this, I asked for miracles to present, thank God with me for this one.
My great aunt on my dad’s side passed on last week. She was getting close to her 90th birthday. I’m so thankful for her life. She’s lived it and lived it very well.
Thank you Lord.
Any miracles you’d like to share?
http:// eccentricsheepie.wordpress.com/2016/03/12/commentary-for-i-am-getting-back-up/ – The poem was lovely.