Life is a canvas waiting for a unique brushstroke, a journey filled with twists, turns, and moments that define your resilience. Life is interesting. The person who was jumping in front of you and playing with you yesterday may not be around tomorrow. I didn't think about such things before, because I didn't want to, but life forces us to realize these concepts. On the ceaseless snowy day of December 18. 2023 our bustling preparation for my mother's birthday added an extra layer of anticipation to the atmosphere. We were all happy and having fun celebrating my mother's birthday with my family. Only my brother had not yet come and we were all eagerly waiting for my brother. Suddenly, the distressing news we received on that fateful day plunged us into a collective state of shock, transforming what was meant to be a joyous celebration into an unexpected period of mourning. I got a call from my brother's phone saying that my brother was brought to the hospital in a serious condition and there was a strong possibility of death. For me, that day was a massive blow and no comfort could ease it. Once a week before, this incident happened, my brother and I had a big fight. And even without knowing it, I looked at him and said:" It would be better if you were not in our lives, you were created only to harm us. I wish you would die sooner." Each utterance I directed towards him in a tone of reproach reverberated so loudly within the confines of my mind that I found myself grappling with the challenge of justifying and consoling my troubled conscience. Around 2 a.m. in the morning, my brother was taken to a major surgery. My parents and I begged God at night not to take my brother's life and return him to us. At that time, my mother's struggles weighed heavily on my heart. . All my mother's prayers to God were very touching, even my heart was broken. At that time, I truly came to believe in the profound difficulty of being a mother. Around 5a.m my brother left this world. Darkness enveloped my vision, leaving me uncertain about what steps to take or what the future holds. My mother's cry resounded so painfully throughout the hospital that no one didn't cry. My parents, even I couldn't say a word that day. I couldn't wish such intense pain, such profound loss, even upon my enemy. In the following days, I realized that simple tasks became arduous, and the weight of loss pressed heavily on my shoulders. Amid these dark times, I sought solace in memories of happy times spent with my brother. One day, I stumbled upon a box filled with mementos from our happiest days. Photographs are frozen in time, capturing smiles, silliness, and the essence of our unbreakable bond. Each picture told a story, a testament to the love and joy we shared. In solitude, I began to discover myself through these memories. I found strength in the love we had for each other and gradually the pain started to subside. While the ache of loss never completely faded, I learned to navigate the world without my brother physically by my side. I carried his spirit with me, finding comfort in the knowledge that the happy times we shared would forever be a part of me. After this incident, I made a conscious effort to treat everyone in my life with equal kindness, learning from my mistake with my brother. Recognizing the fragility of life, I began to invest more time in my family and express my love and appreciation more frequently. Discussing this matter and recalling the circumstances from that time is a challenging task for me. However, such is life. It presents us with numerous highs and lows and we should brace ourselves for each. In sharing this story, my sincere intention is for you to value your dear ones and express your love to them regularly, because, in the end, they might not be with you tomorrow.
May the blessings of Lord Krishna always be with you. Wishing you and your family a very Happy Krishna Janmashtami!😇
It was a small shop near the shore of Lake Erie where they still sold mostly knick-knacks, touristy items, and postcards. The postcards were for sale on a round wire rack that you could turn to pick the one that suited your fancy. Everyone in town knew about the postcard rack in that store because every year, two days before Christmas, you could buy a hand-written postcard from a dead relative. At first, the shopkeeper swore the few patrons to secrecy, but as things went in small towns, the secret soon spread as more than one person knew about the secret to the cards. My grandmother discovered this deal with the postcards the same year her Mack, my grandfather, died. Matthew was her husband for years, and his passing early in his life, at the age of sixty-four, caught him and her off guard. She had been practically a shut-in until the day she ventured out to that little shop. She couldn't bother to go into the town proper to purchase trinkets from the drug mart, so she thought she would try her luck at the lakeside shop. Never did she imagine buying a postcard that day. Something drew her to the rack, but she couldn't say what it was. She walked to it twice, stared at the cards in front of her, and not seeing anything that she fancied. She turned the rack three times before she saw a card that she knew was meant for her. Both Mack and she loved birds. Her love was the male Cardinal, while Mack's love was the male Bluejay. There on the rack, it may have been the last one, or the only one, she wasn't quite sure. To her, it didn't matter; what mattered was that that card was meant for her, and she knew it the moment she saw it—no question. She suddenly had a spring in her step and saw some glimmers of hope with the bright and merry season this year. As she brought the card to the shopkeeper, he commented on such a lovely card and how nice it was that she found the card she was looking for in all those cards on the rack. He put the card into a bag, especially for the card, and then bagged the rest of her other items separately. She drove home and wrapped the few trinkets she purchased but neglected to take the postcard out of the bag. It sat on the kitchen table in plain view. The following morning, she came for her tea and breakfast and saw the card on the kitchen table no longer in the bag. A pen lay across the picture of the Bluejay. Puzzled, she couldn't figure out if someone had come in during the night or if her eyes were fooling her. She poured her tea and then flipped over the card. To her amazement, a note was written declaring his undying love but asking her to live her life to the fullest without him. A tear fell down her cheek. Grandma read and re-read the card. She thought someone had played a huge and horrible prank on her. She became enraged. But after she realized no one had come by the house, she believed. She didn't dare tell anyone, fearing they wouldn't believe her. She rejoiced in her love postcard. When she returned to the shop, the rack didn't draw her attention this time. She couldn't figure it out. So she returned to that shop every day for the next year. And again, the rack beckoned to her on the eve of Christmas Eve. She had figured out the way it worked. That was the last year she got a card from the shop. Mack sent her one more note. Sharing that he missed their nights of sitting in the tv room watching Sonny Elliott together. Mostly, though, he missed her, her smell and touch. The following year, my mother went to that same shop because my grandmother, my dad's mom, shared with my mom that she needed to go to that shop and peruse the postcard rack on that specific day. My mother went, not knowing why, until she felt the rack calling to her. She turned it and found the card right for her. She brought it to the clerk. He asked, did someone tell you to come and purchase a postcard, or did you need one to send to someone? It was an odd question, but she answered that her mother-in-law suggested it. He smiled and put the card in a bag for her. Later that day, my mother cried a lot. Tears of joy fell from her eyes as she had a note from her mother. She couldn't believe her eyes. I suppose that my mother told two friends, who told two friends and so on and so on. The shop was tiny but always had plenty of postcards to replenish the rack. The shopkeeper couldn't wait to see who would come in the door next.
Quiet. That was it. It was Quiet. Laying on the soft grass side by side was all they needed. They didn't need anybody else, not their parents, not their siblings or friends. All they needed was each other even if no words were exchanged. The peaceful lulling sound of the nature around them was enough noise for them.Honestly, noise was overrated. There was no need for constant noise. Sometimes the sound of silence was enough, and that's what those girls all by themselves on the cushioning green grass with the sunsetting all around them needed. Silence. Sometimes silence can speak louder than words ever could, for instance right now these young teen girls don't need to verbally say “I love you” they could just lay there in each other's embrace watching the world change in front of their eyes in silence and those words were all they needed.It's quite similar to how animals express themselves to us. For example when a cat or dog is upset or angry at you they scratch or bite. When a cat or dog is happy and wants to show attention to their owner or another animal they rub up against them and or lick or lay with them, similar to how those girls are laying and just enjoying the moment together.The sunset that they seemed to be so mesmerized by had beautiful shades of orange, red, pink and purple. It was a beautiful sight, no wonder they chose the spot they are now relaxing at.They have been laying there for hours on end not a single word spoken, the warm summer air swirling around them and the birds singing It was so peaceful. It was moments like these that would forever stay a memory in both of their amazing minds. It was memories like these that they would tell their future children.People are always talking about how they visited all the great man made wonders of the world but sometimes the best man made wonders are the places no one sees. Like a special spot in a forest somewhere where there is a small gap in the trees where the moon shines through or its a place on the grass where you spent hours sunset watching and stargazing with your lover, sometimes those are the best man made memories.And that's what they did. They made their own man made memories like I like to call it.They did eventually leave but that did not mean that the memory making ends no memory making is constant, even a walk down a deserted, quiet street with only the street lights and the warmth of the other to keep them company it wasn't as scary as I made it seem but it was soothing. The barley lit street with each other's warmth was all they needed. They didn't a blanket or hand warmers because one hands are natural hand warmers and because all they needed was each other to keep them warm. Even the little kiss goodnight when they reach one of their houses promising to see them the next day and finishing with an I love you because all they needed were some kind words so they could fall into a deep sleep.The morning strolls through the park only to end up sitting on a bench feeding the birds was only one of the things they did after that night. They took those night gazing nights they took the sunset watching in the grass they took those little walks in the street, they took those little goodbyes each night and each and every one of those memories were stored.All they needed were those tiny memories that may seem useless and unnecessary to anyone else but them. It didn't matter to them if people thought that about their memories it was theirs to make and theirs to look back at.All they needed were to keep to themselves and those who had opinions that did not matter to stay away and do what they wanted with their lives.These memories were precious to them and all they needed was to keep them forever and continue making more.That's what they did. They made much more memories never needing to stop because who would want to stop making memories? They went skating, went to the zoo.They did things that they would have never done before they met teacher but now that they have all they needed was each other to conquer their fears and one by one the did so many unique things things even I the narrator wouldn't even dream of doing, but they did it together and nothing could stop them day and night they conquered and dreamed all of it .They took over the world just the two of them and nothing could separate them, not even an earth ending event. All they needed was each other to help them out of their shells that they had built to stop the world from breaking them but now they have each other to fight back the problematic world. All they needed was each other to stop the judgy people, the strange looks, the global warming all of the wrong things that have tried to bring them down individually now have no chance against them together for they are ten times stronger together even without words even with people trying to break them down but even with all that going on. All they needed was each other. Please Enjoy! Art by me
The recent massacre happened at a Catholic cathedral, killing 40 people. And more Catholic priests were kidnapped within a month. A deep sigh from me amplified my relief. But I knew even that was temporary. I was part of an almost-extinct group of people. I wore my chiffon cape on my plain black T-shirt. The cape, recently in fashion, hid my bulging tummy. I smiled at what I saw in the mirror. Walking out of my room, I find Mother and Lavender also dressed up for church. Going to church was dangerous, but even if I were to die there, I'd do it like some rich Lagos Aunty. But reality came after a thirty minutes drive. We met a long queue of cars at the church gate. A strained look decorated our powdered faces, speaking volumes of the fear banging hard against our chests. We watched cars get checked by the stern security guys before entry into our two-acre mega church. Looking away, I caught sight of one of the hefty soldiers from the military sauntering near our car, his long gun hoisted on his shoulder. His dark face reminded me of one of the scary stories that made up their reputation. And just then, an unusual sight caught my attention. It was a beardless fresh guy with oily skin in a black suit. He had his afro hair up like those who played musical instruments in church. His chocolate complexion screamed “Miri's style!” My eyes followed the eye-candy who walked smartly in his neatly pressed trousers. “My Sunday is made,” I murmured, smiling while the queue got to our turn. Lavender got out of the car to open the car's boot, so the security guys could check if we had a human head or some toy guns. Eye candy, aka EC, or rather Eecey walked ahead of us. And that was when my eyes caught the strange-looking briefcase he held unto just as he passed by the gate. An alarm rang in my head, “The briefcase!” it screamed. Guys here carried bags to church, not suitcases. I turned to my mother, who was waiting for the security to finish checking our car and let us in. I opened my mouth to say something, but Eecey felt my intense gaze and looked back at me. Instantly, my mouth curved into that melting smile I had been itching to flash someone. Our gazes locked for some seconds, with me smiling like some idiot. He looked away before continuing his brisk walk with the little briefcase. The car was finally allowed into the church. It was hardly parked till I got out of the car. My eyes roamed the premises. Eecey had vanished. It felt like the lives of almost two thousand people were in my hands. “Miranda! Miranda!” Shouts of my name whizzed past my ears. Before I could turn around, a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and turned me around. In all of these, my eyes were tightly shut. I was scared, muscled hands firmly wrapped themselves around me. “Calm down.” A delicious voice whispered in my ear. Time stilled, and I floated in the deliciousness of the raspy voice. The zesty smell of an unfamiliar cologne wafted in my nose, intensifying the magical moment. “Miiiranda,” The raspy voice purred into my ears, and my eyes flew open out of embarrassment. He had been calling for a while. I sighted my mother and Lavender among the agitated crowd gathered around. One of the soldiers stood with his gun poised, ready to shoot. My mother, who already had tears running down her face, had to drag Lavender down. I realized then the many guns directed at me and the hostage-taker. “It's me, Mira. I'm leaving. Tell them that,” He said firmly and nudged me with his knee, his gun at my head. I realized then that it was Eecey. “No!” I said, not actually surprised. The crowd surrounding us got energized at once. “Hit his jaw!” Someone screamed. But Eecey nudged me again. I knew I had to act fast. The soldiers looked readier to shoot than ever. “He's leaving!” I shouted and heard Eecey gasp in relief. The expression moved me, and strange confidence surged through me. “He's not going to kill me. I assure you!” I shouted again, leaving Lavender's mouth hanging open. “Miranda!” I heard someone call. It was Lavender. She had been rapping at the wooden table with her knuckles. And there I sat my laptop in front of me. I've had a character roam my head for days, yet I have been unable to put a word down for a couple of hours. Sunday service at church was uneventful anyways. “It's about another Eye candy right?” Lavender asked, styling her hair into twists. “Yeah, and you just dammed my inspiration,” I said crossly. “He was just about to have a mushy conversation with the female protagonist, telling her that she had saved everybody.” “And how did she save them?” Lavender asked in a sing-song, and I knew she was about to start teasing me. It was the third time I would create a character out of a good-looking guy I was attracted to. If I choose, I could make him a villain, or a hero in one of my stories. And that is one of the perks of being a writer. After all, it was just attraction.
TW: self harm When my screen lit up, I could feel my stomach flutter. I hadn't heard from you since you said Sydney texted you, and I wanted to hear what she said. But the news that I got was not what I wanted. You told me that she liked you, and you didn't really know what to think. You were excited, but you didn't want to let me down. We knew we could never be together, my family would never allow it, and we wouldn't be able to keep us a secret, nor would we want to. For a while now, we had been forced to love each other from a distance. We had been forced to hang out in secret, but I had hoped for more. Those times in secret were the best times we have ever had, and I took them for granted. I will probably never get them again. That summer, we met up at a softball game. It was our first time seeing each other since Covid, and I was nervous. You walked up, and you were beautiful. I should've kissed you right then and there, but I didn't. We talked for hours, and later you told me that you had thought about kissing me too. You asked me that night if it was better to speak or to die, a quote from the most recent book you read. I told you to speak, but you didn't take my advice, and turns out, I wouldn't take it either. I remembered the softball game when you asked me what to do about Sydney. You asked my permission to let you see if it was going to go anywhere. I kept asking myself if I would rather speak or die, and ultimately, I chose to stay silent about how I felt for you. I told you to go for it with Sydney. I wanted you to be happy. What kind of friend would I be if I asked you to wait for something that might never happen? I couldn't be selfish when all I really wanted was to see you smile. You were ecstatic when I told you to talk to Sydney. You told me you thought you liked her, but that we would always have something special. You said you had never felt the way you did about me before. You said I was different and you would never forget me. So that night, while we were messaging, I cried a river of tears. I cried until there was nothing left in me. You were my happiness. Without you, I wasn't sure what to do. All I felt was a numb, dull pain in my chest. It was heavy and sad and all I wanted was for it to be gone. So I tried to make physical pain outmatch the emotional pain. I slit my wrists that night thinking of you, and how maybe you could finally be who you wanted, and with who you wanted, even if it wasn't me. For the next couple weeks, I cried myself to sleep. I wore long sleeve shirts everyday too so you wouldn't see what I had done. One day though, I raised my hand and my sleeve fell down. You had looked at me for just the wrong second and you saw my scars. I followed your eyes and I began to panick. What was I going to tell you? You didn't outright ask at first. You asked me what was wrong because I seemed upset. You wanted to know if you did something wrong. No, not technically anyway. I told you I was fine, but I know you didn't believe me. I felt bad lying, but I couldn't tell you the truth. That was a couple years ago now, but I still think about it all the time. I mostly think about the softball game. If I had kissed you that night, would you still be mine? Why was I such a coward? Why was I so afraid of what people would think? Having people know I liked girls would have been a small price to pay to still be with you. But now we barely talk to each other. You took the school year online so you could focus on bettering yourself, and I don't blame you for that. I do wish that we kept talking though. This year was the worst ever because you used to be my lifeline, and suddenly you weren't there. We used to talk every night, dreaming about our future plans and imagining what we would do once we turned 18. We aren't like that anymore. We haven't talked like that in at least a year. I wish things could go back to the way they were. I miss the old us. We could do anything together, or at least it felt like we could. But now, you are practically gone from my life. You have moved on. Completely and for real. I only want to know how you did it? How did you let go of me? Because I have been trying to let go of you and I can't. Maybe I'll always love you, maybe I will never let go. But one thing is for sure. If I could go back, I would chose to speak, not to die. That night with Sydney, I would have told you everything that was inside of me, just waiting to be said. It might not have made you stay, but at least you would know. I would have stood a chance, because now it's tearing me apart. I miss you, Zoe. I hope your side of this story has been more joyous than mine. I'll be waiting for you if you ever decide to come back. You are special, and I will wait for you for as long as it takes. I love you.
Grace moved from England to Montreal as a war bride in 1945 where she raised her 4 children. Melanie was the youngest daughter of 5. Melanie's oldest sister died during the Blitz of London. Melanie was given a diary when she was 8 years old. Every night before bed she wrote in her diary and she turned to it as if it were her best friend. Melanie describes in detail what life was like for her. When she was 17 years old she boarded a plane with her mother to return to Lullington Road in Dagenham England to visit her Gran and Grandad. This is where she met Tony, the boy next door. A boy Grace did not approve of. Melanie, quickly fell in love with Tony and by age 19 they were married. Tony and Melanie moved to Canada to start a family. They had a son and twin daughters. Melanie was diagnosed with breast cancer that spread to her brain and she passed away in 1999. She left behind a son of 16 and twin daughters aged 13. I am Melanie's youngest daughter. She had written nightly diary entries until she died. During the pandemic I began to read the diaries and the trauma of such profound loss spilled out of the pages and into my lap. Life's bitter grasp of grief that had been clenched around my throat after her passing began to loosen and I discovered who my mother was. I discovered the love story between my parents and the reason why my father never recovered when she died. How was he truly to live without her? During the pandemic I held the weight of her diaries on my lap like a thousand pounds of brick and decided it was time to heal from the trauma that had ruled my life! I created a blog and through the pandemic I was reunited with my mother who left me behind nearly 25 years ago.
Grace moved from England to Montreal as a war bride in 1945 where she raised her 4 children. Melanie was the youngest daughter of 5. Melanie's oldest sister died during the Blitz of London. Melanie was given a diary when she was 8 years old. Every night before bed she wrote in her diary and she turned to it as if it were her best friend. Melanie describes in detail what life was like for her. When she was 17 years old she boarded a plane with her mother to return to Lullington Road in Dagenham England to visit her Gran and Grandad. This is where she met Tony, the boy next door. A boy Grace did not approve of. Melanie, quickly fell in love with Tony and by age 19 they were married. Tony and Melanie moved to Canada to start a family. They had a son and twin daughters. Melanie was diagnosed with breast cancer that spread to her brain and she passed away in 1999. She left behind a son of 16 and twin daughters aged 13. I am Melanie's youngest daughter. She had written nightly diary entries until she died. During the pandemic I began to read the diaries and the trauma of such profound loss spilled out of the pages and into my lap. Life's bitter grasp of grief that had been clenched around my throat after her passing began to loosen and I discovered who my mother was. I discovered the love story between my parents and the reason why my father never recovered when she died. How was he truly to live without her? During the pandemic I held the weight of her diaries on my lap like a thousand pounds of brick and decided it was time to heal from the trauma that had ruled my life! I created a blog and through the pandemic I was reunited with my mother who left me behind nearly 25 years ago.
It is that time of the year. The time were humans in the world generally celebrate a Kind of love. Red Roses, Maybe blue. Dinners, Maybe Breakfast. Butterfly belles, Maybe Babies. Mushhyy yummmy heartmelting synergy. >>>> But for me, It is just going to be another day to read my books and get well prepared for my exam, This celebration is for today to the average lovers but could be everyday for the other category that notwithstanding CGPA is for ever. PS:: Maybe I like book, exams and the energy that comes with the preparations.
KIM NAMJOON ONCE QUOTED “NO ONE IS BORN UGLY, WE JUST LIVE IN A JUDGEMENTAL SOCIETY”. Hello, I am Sania and today I am writing about something that we all have experienced, are experiencing and am sure will keep on experiencing for the rest of our life, Racism. So what exactly is racism? If you ask google it says “The belief that some races of people are better than others” but if you ask me I personally think it's much more than that. All the human race has experienced so many episodes of Racism in the form of color discrimination, and the chain doesn't stops there, its not always about the color people are racist about, Asian hate is a very burning topic nowadays, every day dozens of Asian-African people are killed in America for the sake Racism in a country where they consider as their very own. And its not that its just the common people facing it, we all know about the Meghan-Oprah interview where, the duchess of Sussex opened up about the poor mentality of the so called Royal family where she was continuously humiliated for not being a royal and in addition to it, white. Or whether it be the worldwide famous and beloved boyband BTS being called corona-virous by a German talk show host just for the sake of their increased popularity among the youths not just in their very own Asian country South Korea but also in this whole world. Passing homophobic jokes to the ones in such groups or the continuous misogyny that Women belong in kitchen and they can't drive, they are all the part of some poor Racist mind. And the incidents I am talking are just mere minute microscopic examples of Racism present among us. What we don't understand is it could be any of us some day or the other. Just keep yourself on the place of the little girl you just bullied for her color. Isn't it devastating to be shameful that is very own, ours. Making people feel bad about their own color, caste, creed, skin, hair or anything? You may argue that a simple non intentional joke with a friend wont be considered as Racism, but believe me my friend it is. Every journey starts with a single step and non intentional harmless bullying is a way good first step. Racism is destroying lives and we see it, everyday, yet we don't know how to react. Maybe because we are the ones who made the differences. We celebrate black history month to celebrate the brave one, but black! Isn't that Racist guys? Its just like saying “oh am not racist, I have a black friend” Why can't we see them just as brave people and not brave BLACK people. I don't know about you lot but if you ask me, as once quoted by comedian Vir Das I think the only possible way to defeat racism is creating a difference, not just the moral one but literal one. The most honest, simple, non-judgmental, and naïve way of getting rid of racism is acknowledging our differences. Yes acknowledging them because we are different, aren't we? my hair is different, my color is different, my skin is different, my values are different, and its ok to talk about it. If we talk about the fact that we are different, and acknowledge how we are different, why we are different, instead of pretending that everybody's the same and nobody is different, and yet in the subconscious counting the number of ways in which we are different, we all might be on the same page of acknowledgement and be less, Different. “Imagine jumping out of a skydiving plane and your parachute doesn't work. What memories would flash before you? Now imagine the parachute opened. How differently would you act when you landed?” That same rush of happiness would be on the little girls face when you will go to her and acknowledge her difference, instead of just bullying her for being different. Before ending my words I would like to say that, everyday when you see someone hating themselves for the way they are, hating their ethnicity, color, culture, race or anything, just remind them that they are beautiful, that they are the best version of themselves. As Alessia Cara song says, "Oh, they don't see, the light that's shining Deeper than the eyes can find it Maybe we have made them blind So they try to cover up their pain And cut their woes away Cause cover girls don't cry After their face is made But there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark You should know you're beautiful just the way you are And you don't have to change a thing The world could change its heart No scars to your beautiful We're stars and we're beautiful" Thank you so much and have a non-racist day ahead.
I woke up to the ringer of an incoming message from my mother. “Don't worry about the outstanding tuition fees. All these financial strains will pass,” it read. She was the sole provider of the family and she, among the many working-class in Botswana, was still recovering from the cut in salaries from the previous year 2020 due to businesses failing to operate during the Covid-19 virus pandemic for safety measures. Actually, it was just a coincidence that I woke up to her message, I instinctively wake up every morning to entirely close my curtains so that I can lengthen my sleep in my university dorm room in China away from the bright lonesome day. I began following this routine religiously from the onset of the winter holiday; the beginning of 2021 new year; the beginning of yet another Covid-19 virus lockdown in my university campus as a consequence of newly surging cases in China. To my surprise, I drew the curtains open. I must have been subconsciously tired of the despondency. Well, I didn't sleep but I was immediately consumed by thoughts from the previous year's lockdown. As an international student living in the school dormitory, I spent the entire year of 2020 quarantined in the school campus and abiding by my dorm room curfew of nine pm. I might have found myself privileged compared to the majority of the world because I was mostly safe from the Covid-19 virus. Unfortunately, it was at the expense of my freedom. But I understood, everyone lost something or even worse someone to the virus. The whole world mourned. It started to feel unfair when we continued to be quarantined in school despite the nation seemingly having held the virus by its reigns after about five months. I recall taking walks about the university premise border with my friend, looking out from in at the city thriving with life. We saw families taking walks together at dawn, cars and even buses moving up and about, heard raucous noises from the street vendors against the harmonizing voices of the elderly women who sang in the streets opposite our university. The masks across everyone's faces were the only thing to give away that not everything was as it was before the pandemic. This to us felt like segregation, to say the least. Nothing could be done about it because of instructions from the government enforced to make sure that all international students were kept utmost safe. Fortunately, these restrictions loosened a bit around August when Chinese students returned to the university for offline lessons. Occasionally we were allowed to go out for a maximum of four hours. I continued to think, the brightest silver lining was that this horrible situation brought out the humane part in my fellow international student peers. Despite a dent in a lot of our allowances, no one ever lacked, we shared whatever little necessities we had.. In late January when all cities in China went into an emergency lockdown we hardly had enough time and money to buy all necessities before every shop stopped offering their services. Rumours about the lockdown only came as speculation since our city was a bit further away from Wuhan, the epicenter of the virus. Therefore, I soon found myself either making meals with ingredients given to me by my peers or cooking enough food to share with them. This was also true for them. I was most delighted by the fact that I didn't have to ask for anything, it was offered before I even had a chance to. We developed empathy for one another. Even when our university finally found a way to help us buy groceries on our behalf we continued carrying on practicing this act of generosity. I can attest that we truly followed the famous Setswana saying that can be loosely translated as, “A person's children share everything, even if it is as little as the head of a fly.” A good morning text from my boyfriend brought me back to the present. And sadly, instantly I remembered that I had to collect a package consisting of a Christmas card that had been returned to me after I tried sending it to my boyfriend who lives in an adjacent city. He could not receive my gift of endearment. His city had suddenly gone under a strict lockdown. So I immediately got up, showered and had time to meditate, another good consequence of the virus, then headed for parcels and posting shop on my campus. While walking I came to the revelation that the universe gives us a chance to grow and learn from the experience from the previous season to do better in the corresponding season. That is why I immediately decided to start the current university lockdown with a steadfast heart eager to see more goodness in my peers and learn more skills than before. Also, it might take a couple of weeks until I see my boyfriend again, a few months for my family to recover financial and it might take the world a few more years but in the moment, goodness and love conquer the vileness in the world brought about by the Covid-19 virus.
Once upon a time ago...there was this girl. She was never okay. She held together by her own fears. Pieced together by the surface scars of others. She pushed herself to be the most imperfect perfect she could construct. She stood up to face an unknown so dark she contemplated leaving it all. Hiding beneath the surface inside of her soul she clung to hope. She wished her self well knowing an illness crept inside her bones. Always overthinking when she laid in the dark hearing whispers from afar. Hoping desperately for a sign to condemn the blind. Let them see where the darkness stood there is light! Leaping moonbeams to find the way to ease this pain. Seeing dark images in the windows on the stormy nights...Always trying to find a way to make it make sense. This world she lost herself so selfless. She couldn't keep it together forever. Eventually, those nightmares like hounds in the night caught her. They tore her down and shredded her soul. They stole flakes of her slowly. Tearing away at her memory. Reminding her she was a faded hopeless lost so easily. She couldn't keep it together right. Losing herself within this abyssal darkness where the chains were never ending. The pain was never easing. The fears were always waiting by the door. Her eyes strained in the sunlight and her once gentle heartbeat, thumping like the thunder rolling thru the hills in a hale storm right before the clouds part. Wishing some way she could hide. Escape. Lose herself within the stars. Paint her in the sky amongst the farthest moons. Let her create the walkway for the next girl to leap on moonbeams. Incase her story is like mine. She's gonna need a light to shine her thru the darkest of times. Where flowers just die. They never live long enough to make somebody smile. Time just dredges away when you can't find a way to spend it. I've been so lost so lost and full of pain. So afraid of changes, but change happened regardless. I have to face the way my life has dealt its last few cards. I have to make sense of the senseless. Directionless against the storms that come. They take our breath away sometimes. We keep secrets when we shouldn't. We fall apart in ways I never thought I could. Stripped down to nothingness. I wear these scars across my heart like mines in the field. They keep me fierce from the battles where I've been. I wouldn't wish the hell I've been thru upon any other soul. Watching your soulmate fall apart isn't for the faint of heart. But I've survived this much I know. I've walked the road and fallen so many times. The bruises that some of this trauma has left me with. The scars that I hide deep within. I'm finding that daily is a daily reminder. I sure do wish that I was stronger. Maybe my mind would have lasted a little longer. All that armor didn't help me in the end. To wear your heart on the sleeve is the understatement of my being. My soul is always feeling always searching always wishing for the better. I used to believe that our bodies are built with all we'd ever need. So in theory, I didn't believe we should share organs. Then my daughter was born. The God's and I have talked so many times. I was so wrong before. I was so closed minded before. Now there isn't one organ I wouldn't give, one breath I wouldn't share. I'd give her my soul. We don't grow up to be broken, but sometimes we are broken. It doesn't mean we cannot make ourselves into pretty collages overtime. Easing the pain of those scars. Making them look more normal again. But My God does it hurt. It is how I Imagine it feels for the butterfly to first burst out of the cocoon in the sunlight rays. Just wow. I have to learn how to be okay again with all of these changes in my life. I have to find me somehow. I need to find that smile I never had. I want to find that laugh when I snort.
It is beautiful day, a memorable one to you my dear. A reminder of how far you have come in your life and the great things God has done for you. Penninah, it is a more than a year since i met you at your work place, a memory that stuck with me to this very day. Through a flash back, your gesture of kindness and hospitality, touched my heart as you placed a sticker of your smile and warm aura in my mind. I found you so attractive and desired your affection.... only to learn that you were expecting a blessing of a child. Yes, my warmths deemed a little bit until i realized that my touching base with you was divine, natural and beyond attention seeking. A warm ecstatic feeling about you gave me the reassurance, a hope for your love and affection was rekindled, a hope to be part of your blessing Ethan and more importantly a hope to be part of your life. Penninah my beautiful love, today is special, not only to you but to me as well, it is a rare opportunity for me to be chanced to wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY. It is an opportunity for you to reflect on life and be thankful. This BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION is special not because it is an addition of another upon your life, but because it is an opportunity for you to look around you and see the good things God has done for you and more importantly his faithfulness upon your own life; --You have to be thankful for the blessing of Ethan and an opportunity for you to whisper to him how happy you are to celebrate your birthday when he is in your life. --You also have to be thankful for having wonderful people around you especially those whom God has place in your life to uplift your spirit when you are down, inspire you, love you and guide you. Knowing you has so far been the most heart warming experience of my life though we have not yet met to share in a moment of Ecstasy, something i am certain will happen. May you live to see more of God's favor upon your life as you age gracefully... Please take note: 1. "Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost." 2. "There are far better things ahead than the ones we leave behind." 3. "Stay youthful by taking care of your mind, body, and soul." 4. "Be patient and understanding with everyone." 5. "Humble's thoughts are; LIVE to LEARN to LOVE~" You are loved, you are desired, you are my warmest thoughts. -- HAPPY BIRTHDAY --
Once upon a time, Lucifer was the ‘Ark Angel' supreme to all the others, until his pride sent him out, the loss of his glory never to return. From then onwards, ‘Day' and ‘Night' divorced. The ‘Morning' separated from the ‘Evening', ‘Darkness' from ‘Light'. ‘Coldness' became parallel to ‘warmth' ‘Heaven' separated from the ‘Earth' and to this day ‘Tears' do not see eye to eye with ‘laughter' nor does ‘Love' and 'Hate' which explains the reason as to why ‘Mother' left ‘Father' The very separation of your ‘Parents'. Now with the hand of the clock becoming much louder than ever before, is a clear time-up signal that we won't be together in the next life. One thing is clear, our daughter will always bring us together. And since goodbye is not a desirable gesture, I will simply walk away without a word To continue the ‘Journey' without you.