Colour your mind, charm your world

  There's something about Ahamefuna that disturbs my spirit. He came home from work like every other day, tired but excited to see his family. He put up a long grin that almost looks fake, holding a bag of groceries I had asked for earlier in the day. The atmosphere changed with his presence, the feeling of dear gripped me tightly but I remained calm anyways. I kept asking how his day went and he kept ignoring the question like he didn't hear what I said. I kept looking at him, looking for traces of anything that would confirm my fears... He kept starring at me like he had a thousand words to say but was held back by a border. I could see him from the side of my eyes as I cut vegetables for dinner. I couldn't place my hands on this mystery but it felt like he was aloof. He offered to cook dinner with me and even put the kids to bed. My husband is the sweetest man I ever know but he associates cooking with the female gender, I didn't mind because I love cooking. He spent

  Chapter 1 It started with a subtle smile, he said he liked the colour of my eyes. I found it weird at first but said thank you because I have always been a polite person. It became a routine of greetings and from greetings, short chats. Days became months and I became eager to see him daily. He was no longer the dirty looking "Agbero" I first saw, he was now a friend that I found solace in. I do not know what to call it but it felt like a tingling in my heart, a flood of intense emotions flowing through my vains. I didn't realize how bold I had become with him, I didn't notice the whispers and stares, I probably didn't care. I would give anything to see him every single day. On a very cold evening, I was walking home, eyes searching every nook and cranny of the streets of Balogun, seeking for my friend. He waved from a mini provision store and immediately I walked towards his direction.

 It must hurt deeply to lose a loved one. There wasn't really enough emotion on Abena's face to convey this. She has been sitting on the wooden bench under the coconut tree for hours, dazed. She probably didn't understand how a child who was playing with sand in the morning could be dead now.  Kofi was playing with sand and water near his mother's little garden. He would wet sand with water from his mother's garden pipe and th en mold little houses. He was happy, whole and full of life. Abena was starring at him from her kitchen window, reminiscing about his birth. She didn't know she was in labour and also didn't think Childbirth was as painful as people described it. Hers was fast, she didn't have enough time to think about the pain or dwell in the pain. In minutes, her son came through and the midwife literally had to catch him. Now she's starring at him, all grown. She was smiling at him as he played with sand until the look of Peace on his face

 Nothing feels the same again. The sun doesn't rise and set like it used to anymore. Time seems like it has become shorter. I never get to see 1pm nor 8pm anymore, probably because they are the rush hours of my life now. I can't remember the last time I looked at the moon with loved ones, starring deep and looking for imaginary moon workers. I miss the way the moon illuminates darkness and creates a soothing calmness as we waste away the night in story telling... I miss my father's deep bass as he tells us about his childhood. Nothing is more beautiful than the pictures of our imagination. The tales of Akpugoeze decades before I was born. The smell of roasted corn and ube, the background sound created by crickets.  Slowly but steadily I am taken to the land of dreams where I can't live in but I am rewarded with memories. Memories created from the pictures of my imagination.  Those were the days of bliss...