It’s #fictionfriday. Forgive me for the late post…I had quite a busy one today.
Today I am sharing a story that was previously on my former site. It’s called Remembering Childhood. If you have read it once, there’s much more beauty in reading it again.
She had the world about her. You could feel the hospitality of Africa in the way she acted. Her formality was impeccably British. She had learned to loosen up like an American, even though she maintained an orthodox Arab shyness quite frequently. You could call her face Ethiopian, her hair Indian and her body Brazil, and guess what, she had an Italian appetite and her men tasted like French.
Sometimes, I called her Miss world. I loved to watch her attempts to sway to the right and to the left on the dance floor. She had the cockiest steps, even when she was certain of how bad a dancer she was. She had an aura around her that made you yearn to stay in her presence. But there was something ever so strange about Britney. It made me wonder how she passed her exams, it made me wonder how she remembered every name, and it even made me ponder how she remembered her own name that I gave to her. She had a way of making ordinary observations sound like outstanding discoveries, and a way of making you laugh your heart out to the most boring joke ever. Talk about her reverence for God; often you would see her hug her Bible close to her chest, resting her chin on the oak brown leather cover. You would think that she would forget every scripture she ever read, but no, as forgetful as we all knew Britney to be, she always remembered certain things. She nudged me to tell me John 3:16 when the Sunday school teacher called my name to recite the memory verse. She was too old for the class, but she was ever with me. She reminded me that 2 + 2 equals 4 whenever I was lost in thoughts or when I thought it could be 22.
When she spoke, her voice thundered like a helicopter about to land, then again, it was as cool as the melting of ice cubes in your throat. Now I recall the time she told me she was leaving.
“Kunle, you have to grow up now”
Those were her words to me and as always, the words echoed in not just my ears this time, but my heart. Britney had to go. I had to move on. I had to become the man who lived not just in imaginations but in reality, and let go of the friend that only existed in my mind.
Do you have any childhood memories that you’d love to share? Maybe an imaginary friend like Kunle’s? You can do that in the comment section. Thank you!
With Overflowing Love,
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