Baby Boy

Posted: September 2, 2019 in Growing pains, Love & Life
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Baby Boy is on the autism spectrum. He’s 4 years old, and half the time I’m not sure he understands me. Sometimes, I can feel his quiet frustration at being unable to verbally express himself the way kids his age should. On very rare occasions, it becomes too much for him and he breaks down. It makes me weak. It breaks my heart. I hold him close and tell him it’s ok. He clings to me desperately, crying into my neck. He wants so very much to be understood…

I turn 31 in a few days. I look back now and I can hardly recognize the girl I used to be. I catch glimpses of her in the mirror occasionally, but very little of her is left. I owe a lot to her willingness to adapt to change and let herself grow in mind and spirit. Her determination not to let herself be ruled by fear of the unknown laid the foundation for the woman I have become. My shit is not together at all, but things could be worse. I choose to look at it from a glass half full perspective.

Daddy died in 2017. No one is ever ready for a parent’s death. I still can’t fathom why out of all the emotions I felt about losing my father, guilt was the strongest. I did everything within my power to make him comfortable while he was alive, but I still felt I should have done more. An older relative, maybe sensing how I felt, later told me my dad had told him everything I did. He assured me that I had been a good daughter to him. It took a while for the guilt to let up. It still creeps up sometimes. He is with me in my dreams, always.

Baby is a joy. I feel God knew I needed something I could look upon daily that would lift my spirits. I wanted to give Baby Boy a sibling and a companion to play and grow with, in the hopes that it would help him. But halfway through my pregnancy, I started to freak out. I could not see past my fears. The cost implication of having another kid. What if he’s also autistic? With the economy the way it was, how would we get by? I was so worried; I would lay awake at night crying. Then Baby was born, and I still can’t explain the peace that washes over me whenever I look at him. It’s like magic. God made him a spiritual balm for my soul. I can’t look at him and stay worried about anything.

I am self-aware enough to know that a large part of my evolution comes from learning how to be the mother Baby Boy needs. Slowing down to learn his non-verbal language, being patient enough to understand his wants and needs, learning how to not hold on too tightly or push him too hard and just let him grow at his own pace. It’s a school of hard knocks with no cheat sheet, and I am not ashamed to admit that his father is doing a better job than I am. He is quite literally the best father. Baby Boy is fearless, kind, and smart as a whip. He is also an empathic and intuitive child. He loves music. He loves cereal. He loves his dad, and his new favourite thing to do is making his baby brother laugh and laughing along with him. That’s good enough for me right now. I know there are more hurdles ahead, and I know worrying won’t do anything but I’m going to worry anyway. But I also know every little thing is going to be alright…

Rarest Gem[ini]

Posted: June 12, 2017 in Love & Life, Passion
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I believe life partners never stop getting to know each other. I’ve known Gabby for over a decade now and Insha Allah I will continue to know him for many more decades to come. I don’t just love him, I like him, A LOT. I have liked him since the day we first met. The typical girl really likes boy scenario and it has never changed. And the more I get to know him day by day and through the different experiences we share as friends and as a couple, the more of him I like. 

As an individual, he’s a terrific human being. He is compassionate and kind. He has a refreshing outlook on life. I’m not just talking about seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses but he is not one to see a difficult situation without instantly looking at possible solutions or fixes. Usually, he is the optimist to my pragmatist, and believe me this has done wonders for my blood pressure. He makes me strive to be a better person just by the sheer force of love and light that emanates from his personality. The way he treats EVERYONE… That feeling you get when you know you’re with someone much too good for you so you want to be better and do better even though all they really want is you just the way you are… Aren’t I freaking lucky!

As a best bud, he is AWESOME!! The jokes are priceless and the laughs are endless. I think the goal is to see who can make the other laugh the most. I once came home from work spotting a blond almost buzz cut. His reaction was “Niiiice”, then he proceeded to rub my head. I sometimes pretend not to care for those head rubs cos I instantly picture a little kid or a dog getting a head rub but the truth is those head rubs make me feel the way the kid or the dog would feel, silly pleased! Long car rides by his side are the best! Never a dull moment. Or Friday nights spent watching TRACE or some other music channel, loudly singing along or dancing like drunk idiots, usually while or after knocking back a few shots. {So that phase is on hold till baby boy is old enough to participate ;-)} Conversations with him are never just bleh. They’re as enlightening as they are entertaining. We are polar opposites in a lot of things, but with what truly matters, we play for the same team.

As a dad, he is everything. He has made it so baby boy doesn’t feel he needs one parent for one thing and the other for something else. He is literally spoilt for choice. I am amazed at how present and completely in tune he is with Jammal’s wants and needs. He’s usually the first to spot a difference in his general disposition, whether health wise, moods or a developmental mile stone no matter how minute. He is unarguably THE BEST DAD and I couldn’t be more grateful for him and beyond glad he is the one I’m on this journey of a lifetime with.

As a husband, I’ll just sum this up by saying he is the florist to my garden. All I do is bloom and grow in every aspect of my life. He has loved me through it all, my best and my worst. He is my partner and it has never been on paper alone. No one seeks or values my opinion or advice or input more. No one expects me to excel and be my best more. No one pushes me more or encourages me more. And no one roots for me harder and louder than he does, in words and in actions. My triumphs are his triumphs. Ours has never been a conventional union but it has been a kick ass one where we have both blossomed wonderfully. He is always there as a sounding board, as a gist/gossip buddy, as a series marathon-watching partner {be it The Voice or The Big Bang Theory}, just to listen to me rant and vent, to bring me a cup of freshly prepared ginger with honey & lemon tea when I start to develop a cough, to have popcorn delivered to my office when I get a craving, to rock me to sleep when I get nightmares, to make me pepper-soup when I get a sore throat, to wake me up with a glass of water when the weather gets too warm and I start to cough in my sleep, to cook for me just because, as a counselor when I need advice, my guide when I’m in doubt about any situation, as a friend when I just need him to be, as my shopping partner, my mirror before leaving the house, as my rock when I feel like I’m falling apart, as my moral compass when I’m towing a grey line…I could go on. He never fails, in words and actions, to let me know that I am the center of his world. He is not afraid to share all of him with me; his strengths and weaknesses, his highs and lows, “his” kitchen and clothes {#PregnancyTales}. I will admit I was reluctant to marry him. Not because I was afraid he would change, but because I could not bear the thought of life without him if he were to leave it before me. Like those overly dramatic Telenovelas, I was afraid of being happy with him for a possibly short period of time and then losing him so I chose not to be with him at all. I realize now that my life has been made all the more beautiful and meaningful by sharing it with him and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I cherish every moment of everyday with him. He’s not perfect but he is all of this and so much more AND he was made to love me. Really, aren’t I just freaking lucky!

Happy Birthday Rarest Gem(ini)! If I were to pen down everything I want to say, it would be a never ending story. Ultimately, all you need to know is there’s no me without you. Thank you for loving me the way you do, it has made loving you as easy as breathing. Here’s to many more awesome years ahead in life and in love.

All My Love, Today & Always…

Happy 45th!!

Pic Credit/Cake: Food Fashion Fusion

Raison D’etre

Posted: September 1, 2016 in Love & Life
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Raison-D'etere

Maima looked up from her notepad and stared into space. Try as she may she couldn’t find the words. A year had passed since that Tuesday morning in September but she could still see it clearly in her mind like it was just yesterday. It was the day she came to accept that her life had been irreversibly changed for good…

Nothing prepared her for this. Maima lay immobile in the hospital bed. She had just started to regain some sensation back in the lower half of her body after a complete loss of feeling due to the spinal anaesthetic she was given for the surgery. While her post-surgery pain was under control, her level of discomfort was almost off the chart. The strain on her back from being stationary for so long was getting so bad she was almost crying. The anaesthesiologist had talked her through her pain management procedure the night before in a bid to prepare her for what to expect but Maima was certain the doctor had left out this bit. She had been advised to stay off her feet to avoid the risk of having a post dural puncture headache [usually associated with regional anaesthetic], especially given her unique condition. She had to lay in bed with as little movement as possible for at least 24hrs after the surgery.

As she lay in bed gingerly inching her body this way and that in an attempt to get comfortable, Maima couldn’t help remembering how terrified she felt just a couple of hours earlier as she stood in the doorway of the operating room. Every cell in her body screamed at her to walk away and request for another option. She had never been so scared in her life as she was when she walked into the OR that morning. When asked if she was ready, she could only manage a nervous laughter in response as she was led into the room and told to lay down on the operating table. For some reason she had chosen to walk in rather than be wheeled into the room. The room was cold and smelled faintly of disinfectant. The surgeon was quite chatty and a little boisterous, but his cheerful demeanour managed to calm her nerves just a bit and she was able to relax on the table. An IV line was placed in her arm. She had been shaved and a catheter placed in her bladder an hour before. The anaesthesiologist smiled down at her from her place at the head of the table as she told Maima to sit up for a minute so she could administer the spinal block. Maima hunched over as she had been shown the night before and braced herself as the cold tip of the needle entered her back.

Not long after she was having difficulty moving her legs as she had started to lose sensation in them. It was time.

Maima closed her eyes briefly and said a silent prayer under her breath. It was a prayer she would repeat over and over throughout the length of the surgery. She tried to gather her thoughts and steady her nerves. Then out of nowhere, her teeth started chattering uncontrollably. She was so cold she was visibly trembling. The anaesthesiologist had warned her that body temperature tends to fall due to the effect of the drugs but still, she had not expected it to be this bad. A nurse noticed the trembling and covered up her torso with a light blanket.

About 10 minutes later, Maima felt a dull pressure and some tugging down below, behind the sterile drapes. That was when she heard it, a sound like no other, and she knew her life would never be the same.

Maima held her breath, the prayer she had been repeating caught in her throat. At first she thought she had imagined the sound. Then she heard it again and this time she felt it too, and the indescribable force of the indescribable feeling felt like a packed punch knocking the wind right out of her. It was as if she had just popped a Limitless Pill and she was seeing clearly for the first time in her life. And yet, quite inexplicably at the same time, she felt like a fine tapestry whose thread had been pulled and she was unravelling, slowly coming undone, slowly falling to pieces. The effect was as unique to her as if it was her very own Kryptonite. It was THE most beautiful sound she would ever hear. It was her baby’s first cry. It was the sound of her child being born.

So each time she heard the cry again and again she died inside and was reborn again and again like the phoenix. But with each rebirth she was made stronger as her heart swelled, and I mean quadrupled in size, with so much love.

Maima wept, overcome with emotions. She couldn’t exactly call it joy. The three letter word just seemed too small to describe how she was feeling. She felt like she was lost at sea and that cry was her compass, guiding her home. So she clung to it like her very existence depended on it.

As the surgeon brought the baby to her side for her to see, Maima was introduced to the one who would now and forever be her reason for being – her new born son.

Back in her room in the hospital, having finally given up on trying to get comfortable, Maima sighed as she looked towards the foot of her bed where her son lay in a crib sound asleep and sucking on his fingers. After what had seemed like an eternity he was finally here. It had been a long nine months of all manner of aches and pains and complications but it had all been worth it. He was here and he was real and he was hers.

Maima’s decision to have a planned c-section had been met with stubborn resistance by her first doctor. Even after she had provided him with medical records to show that a vaginal birth could possibly put her and her baby at risk. He would rather wait for an emergency to occur that would require the c-section. Fortunately, her husband found another doctor at a different hospital who agreed to do the procedure and this had ultimately not only saved her son’s life but possibly hers as well.

The night before the surgery, after the anaesthesiologist had been to see her and she was finally alone in the room, Maima had brought out her old journal. It held her most treasured memories, including the story of how she came to start the adventure of a lifetime that had led to this very moment. She spent the rest of the night reading, reminiscing and reflecting on different significant events from her past. In a way, this was her own way of mentally sorting unfinished businesses and letting herself come to terms with things she could never change, all in preparation for this new adventure she was about to embark on. She didn’t know what to expect from her new life but she was as eager as she was anxious to begin…

Maima brought her attention back to her notepad, then to the sleeping form beside her. A year had passed since that Tuesday morning in September and what a year it had been. Hussein had been the missing piece in their lives, and on top of the immeasurable joy and laughter he had brought into their lives, he had managed to bring them even closer than they had thought possible. It constantly blew her mind how something so small could be so extraordinary, and it had come out of her! By being born he had saved them, given their life new meaning and purpose, and made them better human beings. Maima was in awe of him. Her undying love and appreciation knew no bounds. Mothering him was an honour and a privilege she cherished every single day, and she was grateful for every second she got to spend with him.

raison deter

To my son, Abdul Jammal Hussein Missa, you were made with love, you were born out of love, you are a physical manifestation of love itself, and you are unconditionally, undeniably, and irrevocably loved. Happy Birthday!

Full Circle

Posted: March 8, 2015 in Love & Life
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motherhood

The pain was sharp and intense, as if something was trying to rip her stomach apart from the inside. It had not been this bad the day before. But then the day before, she didn’t know that the life that had started to grow inside of her was no more. Zia cried out and clutched her belly as another wave of cramps gripped her and would not let up. She was inconsolable, not because of the pain but because of the realization that came with knowing what was happening. She had lost it. Her baby was gone and her body was trying to expel any evidence that it was ever there. Her grief was so shattering and selfish in its totality that she couldn’t muster up the strength to console Malik. She cried because she believed her body had failed her in the worst way possible. She cried because she couldn’t think of any other way to mourn what could have been. She cried because that was the only emotion she could manage…

It’s too small to kick. Zia laid a hand on her slightly swollen belly and smiled to herself. Even after several uneventful weeks and the last scan that had banished any last trace of doubt concerning the status of her pregnancy, she still didn’t know how to be, or how to feel, or what to expect.

After the first miscarriage and how it had left her all broken up inside, when she found out she was pregnant again, what she felt was a wave of bitter sweet emotions. Her joy was dampened by the fear of another loss. The pain of her first loss had been more psychological than physical. It had consumed her completely; a short but very intense heartbreaking pain and disappointment that her body had failed to do what should have been the most natural thing. Finding out she was again pregnant, she almost couldn’t accept it. She felt like she needed to be convinced that this one was here to stay before she could let herself be happy about it.

Contrary to what Malik thought, her first loss had not in any way weakened her resolve to keep trying. The first one had not come effortlessly. She had needed a bit of help medically to make it happen. But she wasn’t scared to try again. She was even more determined. There was no mad pressure to have children, but she realized it was time when she couldn’t stop thinking or dreaming about babies. She chose to believe the fact that she had lost it only meant that she could have one and her inner plumbing works just fine. She chose to believe that her loss was only preparing her for something even more special that she had to appreciate more. Her very own rainbow after the storm.

Hearing it’s little frantic heartbeat for the first time almost brought tears to her eyes. It was real. It was alive and it was ridiculously tiny. But it was growing inside of her. Her body was changing dramatically too and it was driving her insane. She could not deal with not having control over her body anymore. She missed the days her nose and taste buds worked in sync. When her clothes used to fit effortlessly. Even the baggy ones. Now, her body was barely recognizable to her. She had gone up almost three dress sizes in a matter of months. In all fairness, the weight gain had actually begun with the first pregnancy, which was only a couple of months ago. All the same, she was not accustomed to having so much flesh on her bones. She was 5’3” and round wasn’t particularly the most flattering shape on her. She wasn’t proportioned to carry so much weight elegantly. Like a ballerina the size of Dumbo the flying baby elephant. Her appetite had gone haywire. For the most part, she couldn’t stand some of the things she used to love, like chocolates and chicken. Up was down and down was sideways as far was her mouth was concerned.

She could barely get her jeans over her ever-expanding hips. Her breasts had gone up a cup size in less than a month and her nipples were almost as big as the ripe juicy grapes she could not stop eating. The constant burping, barfing and gassiness were not making her life any easier. She couldn’t stick to any particular meal plan because her cravings never quite stayed put on any one thing for long. If she was craving it one minute she couldn’t stand it the next. As for water, if she wasn’t crunching on ice cubes, she had to have near scalding hot water. The last time her tongue was that assaulted was when she shoved a spoonful of piping hot beans into her mouth back in school.

All of these put together, however, were not as bad as the acute migraines she had started to get on a regular. The saying ‘laughter is the best medicine’ was definitely off the bat in this case. Laughing made the jack hammer in her head pound even that much harder. It was ironic how something that made her feel so good could cause her so much pain. Watching Chris Rock do a skit would definitely knock her lights out for real. All in all, it was a trying first trimester but Malik’s constant almost hawk-like attention and care was getting her through it and she was grateful to have him.

For the sake of playing it safe, any and every activity that might be deemed remotely strenuous had been crossed out. No more tennis, working out or going to the gym. No more jogging or long walks in the morning or any other form of exercise till further notice. Hopefully, she could start using the elliptical machine she got once she was way past the first trimester. It was low impact enough to be safe No more sex either. An even bigger bummer. Her see-sawing hormones kept her properly distracted for the time being but she couldn’t go cold turkey for 9 whole months. What about poor Malik, banished to the guest bedroom so “accidents” don’t happen. Zia wasn’t sure how she would manage but she was not about to do anything stupid that would jeopardize things. The only way this one was coming out of her is kicking and screaming after 9 months and an adequate amount of time in the labour room.

She had been told it would get easier with time but she could not imagine how gradually weighing up to a ton with another human being literally developing at an exponential rate inside of you could possibly get any easier. She tried not to think too much about what’s to come but to instead focus on getting through the day, one day at a time, to focus instead on how her life was changing. She would be a year older by the time her mini-me was born. Steadily inching closer to her 30s. If there was ever a time to take a step back and properly review and appreciate how far she had come, this was it. She had come quite a long way from that little tomboy who used to play video games and rough house and wrestle with the boys. Her mother’s only girl. She had come full circle. In a matter of months, she would be a new mum. She had to start making practical plans and tough choices. Her family was about to get that much bigger and for the next few years her little babe would be the centre of her world, demanding her attention constantly, changing every aspect of her life, upstaging almost everything and everyone else in it. She had to prepare for that, psychologically, financially and every other way necessary. She also had to find a way to ensure there was a balance, to make sure that other important things in her life don’t get left behind or neglected, like herself and Malik.

Most importantly, she had to make sure not to lose herself. Her baby was not going to be little forever. He or she would want to know her, to know her likes, dislikes, hobbies, flaws, achievements and all. She owed it to her little one to be the best that she can be, to do the best that she can, live her life with no regrets and hopefully be the kind of woman her precious little rockstar can be proud to call mother.

The 13th Floor

Posted: November 25, 2014 in Passion
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A friend of mine sent this in after reading Gin & Coke. I find that people’s need for a happy ending in passion themed stories makes it easy to blur the line between reality and fantasy. I know a lot of you are not too pleased with the way Gin & Coke ended, but it was never meant to be a love story. I apologize for the abrupt ending but I will try to do an alternate ending piece with a more robust plot. Thank you so much for reading, commenting and sharing. Please enjoy The 13th Floor.

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She got up from the table and walked over to the girl who just finished dancing. She whispered something in her ear and they both turned around and looked at me. The look on her face gave it away; she was up to no good. The stripper smiled and walked right toward me, already dancing. She began to give me a lap dance while Angela sat back down next to me, laughing her head off. I sat on my hands to comply with the “no touch” policy while Angela made it rain, chuckling the whole time. The stripper had an amazing body but couldn’t hold my attention for long. She had an “over-experienced” aura about her I found rather unsexy. After about 10 minutes, it was over and she left to find her next victim. “Did that turn you on?” asked Angela, as if the bulge in my pants was a banana I happened to carry around. “What the fuck do you think?” I replied. She laughed and said I looked like I would rather sink into the chair. “You look cute when you blush,” she giggled. “Black people don’t blush,” I responded, knowing fully what her next response would be as she had said so several times. “You do.”

The visit to the strip club wasn’t planned. I had picked her up from the airport that morning. She was in town for work, the only was her possessive husband would let her out of his sight. I had timed a visit to my brother to make sure i could spend time with her. The office flirting was fun and we had never said anything serious to each other. But we could both tell the attraction was real and strong. We had had several “I’ve never told anyone but you……” conversations.  Also had the “I remember the first time I saw you…..” talk. It was never too emotional, at least not for me. She was someone I connected with and would love to spend time with if we didn’t work in the same building with both our spouses!

From the Airport, I took her on the predictable errands; SIM card, bank visit, breakfast, hotel check-in and FedEx. I don’t know if it was the change of scenery or the fact that we were finally alone but she seemed to have boundless energy. Some light shopping and dinner followed. I figured she’d be tired. I offered to drop her off at her hotel. “I want to go dancing,” was her response. “How can you not be tired?” I asked. “Is that the old man talking” she responded with a teasing smile, a thinly-veiled reference to the 15-year age gap between us. She sure knew how to goad me. “You’re on,” I responded.

I took her back to her hotel and carried some of her shopping bags to her room. She asked me to sit down while she picked out something to wear. She tried on a couple of dresses she brought with her and a couple she bought earlier that day. She looked sexy in everything she tried. I didn’t feel like much help. I told her if she wore jeans and a t-shirt, I still wouldn’t be able to look at anyone else. She settled on a red dress and heels. “Can you dance in those?” I asked, staring at her feet. “When was the last time you were out?” was her laughing response.

I had googled “urban clubs” and picked the one with the highest ratings. The reviews even said they played the occasional Nigerian song. A $10 cover charge and metal detector search got us into the club. Being a fan of rock and Nigerian music, most of what was being played was unknown to me. Plus all the dance steps seemed strange as well. It had been a while since I was in a club outside Lagos. She, however, seemed to be in heaven. She was singing along to most of the songs while dancing suggestively. After about 30 minutes, I suggested we get some drinks. We sat at the bar and ordered a Long Island for me and a margarita for her. The music was so loud we had to lean very close to hear each other. As she was telling me she hadn’t had this much fun in a while, I couldn’t but take in the smell of her perfume and the sight of her cleavage.

A group of 4 guys walked past our spot by the bar and her brow furrowed like she remembered or recognized something or someone. “I think that guy went to my secondary school,” she said.

“You want to go say hi,” I asked.

“Yeah, why not,” she responded, “it would be fun to catch up.”

“Have fun and take your time,” I said, “the old man will be here watching the game”

The guy she walked up to was about my height, 6ft 2ins, but about 10 kg heavier with the build of an athlete. Plus, he was about the same age as her. I didn’t feel like I had a right to be jealous so I turned back to the game. I noticed the lady sitting next to me was alone and seemed to be excited every time the home team scored. It turns out she went to my college’s rival school. We exchanged some friendly banter but had to get really close to hear each other over the loud music. I turned around to see what Angela was up to. She had her arms around the new guy and he had his hands around her waist. They were dancing rather suggestively, in my opinion, even more so than when she danced with me. As much as I had promised myself not to get jealous, I found myself getting angry. I resisted the urge to drag her away and waited another 30 mins till she came back. She leaned into my ear and said “if you aren’t having fun, let’s go”. I asked her about her “new friend”. She said something about him asking for her number and her responding that she was married, only in town for a week and so on.

We left the club and got in the car. Before driving off, I couldn’t help myself and asked “did you have to dance like that with him?” She looked at me with part-irritation and part-surprise and asked “like what?”

“You know like what. I can see why he’d put his arms around your waist but you held him back like you were enjoying it”.

She looked away from me and out the window and said. “I’ve had enough of this shit. If I wanted to go out with my husband, I would go out with my husband. I wouldn’t be here with you. And I didn’t leave with the guy in there, I left with you”.

I knew I’d stuck my foot in it and had no right to be jealous. Who gets jealous over their friend’s wife? I told her I was sorry but she didn’t respond. I asked her what she wanted to do. “Take me home” was her response. Her voice sounded like she was holding back tears and I felt even worse. She’d confided in me about how her husband was trying to curb her free spirit and how everything she did was a problem. She was considering walking out less than 2 years in. And here I was, acting like the Svengali she was trying to escape from, even if only for a week. I started driving toward her hotel. But I wasn’t ready for the night to end on this note. I stopped at a gas station and started pumping. She still wouldn’t look at or talk to me. I went into the store and walked out with my hand behind my back. I tapped on her window. She wound down.

“You look like someone stole your lollipop” I said with the best over-exaggerated puppy dog face I could muster. “Can I make it up to you?” And then I pulled out a lollipop and handed it to her. She couldn’t help herself and cracked a smile albeit reluctantly and took the lollipop from me. It was an inside joke. “I’m an idiot and I’m sorry” I apologized again.

“Will you please get in the car?” She asked.

“Only if you’ve forgiven me” I responded.

“Just get in jor” she said with a smile on her face. The Angela I knew was back! I got in the car and she unwrapped the lollipop and stuck it in her mouth. “This isn’t the lollipop I wanted” she said with a naughty smile.

“Are we still talking about lollipops?” I asked looking right at her instead of the road in front of me.

“What do you think?” was her even naughtier retort. The Angela I loved talking to was back.

“Still going to your hotel?” I asked. She thought for a second and yelled “strip club!”

She picked the one to go to. She had gone with some friends on a previous trip earlier that year. Didn’t tell her husband, of course, but she’d told me.

After the stripper left our table, we began to do tequila shots. “We can blame the tequila for anything that happens tonight” she whispered in my ear at some point. We also got a couple stacks of $1 bills and made it rain with the girls on stage. Angela had a way of making me try things I’d never think to do on my own. I could see why her husband seemed determined to tame her but I was certainly having fun. By the time we were done spraying, I could tell she was tipsy. “It’s 4 AM” I told her. “Time to end your YOLO” day.  And she seemed to agree.

Back in the car, she thanked me for a wonderful day. She was gracious enough to overlook my jealous fit at the nightclub. We got to her hotel’s parking lot and I couldn’t find the words to be suave, so I blurted out “We’re here, or would you rather come over to my hotel?”

“Why would I do that?” she responded.

“I got you something and was hoping you’d want to see it”

“At 4 in the morning?” she asked sarcastically.

“Are you upset I asked?” was the best I could come up with.

“No, I could never stay mad at you, even when you say silly things.” And there it was, rejection and endearment in one breath.

“Should I walk you to your room” I asked, already knowing the answer.

She responded “no thanks, I’ll be fine”. She said goodnight and leaned in to hug me. I hugged her back and it lasted a little longer than usual. We pulled away but our foreheads and noses were touching. We were breathing in the same air and it was thick with suspense.  Neither of us could make the next move. I didn’t want to risk further rejection. I raised my head up and kissed her forehead. “Will you call me when you get to your room?”  I promised I would. I watched her walk away. As pretty as she was, her back view was always my favorite. But this time, it filled me with regret and not desire.

It was a 10 minute drive to my hotel. I had a room on the top floor because she had mentioned that making love against a window of a high-rise was on her sex bucket list. I’d hoped to help her cross that one off. Now it seemed my planning and extra spending was for naught. At least I had a good view of the Houston skyline. I took off all my clothes, except for my socks, and got into bed. I didn’t feel like talking so I sent Angela a text message to say I had made it to my room. Not quite 5 seconds after I switched the lights off, my phone starts ringing. It is Angela. I answered.

“Are you tired?”

 

To be continued….

Gin & Coke III

Posted: November 13, 2014 in Passion
Tags: , , , ,
6

passion

Vincent spent most of his time day-dreaming about his night with Zariah. He had spent months wondering what being with her would be like, and the reality far surpassed his expectations. At first, Vincent had felt a bit guilty, given that they both were not exactly free agents. Then he had been a bit worried that things could get complicated. But then he decided they would cross that bridge if or when they got there. Right now they were just two people with enough sexual chemistry between them to light up a Christmas tree. All he could think about was the next time he would get to be with her again.

He had planned on working late, but he was finding it more and more challenging to focus on work as his thoughts kept drifting to Zariah and that beautiful body of hers, and the way she looked laying there underneath him. He shut down his system and left the office. He drove straight home to take a shower and catch up on some of his favorite TV shows.

Zariah was out of town and had been unreachable all day. He was itching to talk to her and tell her about his day. She was always curious to hear about his office gossips, especially about the women that were hitting on him or that Vincent thought were dropping hints like he was one social experiment she was studying. He found her interest in such stories amusing but indulged her anyway. She was a great listener.

After dinner, he tried calling Zariah’s number one more time but still couldn’t get through. He left a message on her voice mail before going to bed. As he closed his eyes, he found his thoughts drifting to that fateful night and the morning after. He was sure that even if he never got to be with Zariah again, forever etched into his memory were those remarkably unforgettable hours of pure ecstasy in her arms.

Vincent woke up to velvety warm thighs and soft breathing. Sometime during the night, Zariah had snuggled closer to him to keep warm under the duvet, and now her legs were entwined with his. Her head was on his chest, a half smile on her sleepy lips. As he stared at her, memories of the previous night’s activities came flooding back, and he could feel his body responding to the sensations, the flashing images in his mind’s eye was evoking.

He was tempted to take her immediately but decided to let her sleep. They had been up for most of the night. He couldn’t get enough of her. Her beautiful body was like a fresh spring and goodness, was he thirsty. The things she did with that body made him near delirious with pleasure. There had been no awkward pauses or moments of uncertainty. They both knew what they wanted. They both wanted the same thing. It was a simple, primal need.

Zariah didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Vincent was awake and watching her. She could almost feel his eyes on her face as if trying to wake her up just by sheer will. Instead, her eyes remained closed as Zariah thought about their night together. She shivered slightly at the memory of his mouth, kissing every inch of her body, exploring and pleasing in turn. The aching need in her had been raw, and the first time he took her, it was almost as if he knew what she needed him to do. And when they came, one after the other, he called out her name over and over while she almost cried from the sheer intensity of the experience.

She was about to open her eyes and reach for him when she heard a phone ring. The tone didn’t sound like hers, so it had to be Vincent’s. She opened her eyes and moved her head off to chest to allow him to get out of bed to get the phone out of his jeans on the floor. She noticed their unceremoniously scattered clothes all over the room for the first time and held back a chuckle. Her bedroom had never been this messy before. She got out of bed to pick up the clothes and arranged them on the sofa in her room, then went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take a shower while Vincent finished his phone call.

He watched her leave the room, not bothering to cover up. He got the feeling that she was at her most comfortable with nothing on, which was fine except for the fact that he was now completely distracted from his call. He wanted her bad. He quickly ended the call and followed her into the bathroom.

“I have to go. I just got called into the office”. Vincent said as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. They stood like that under the cascading water of the shower head for a minute before Zariah turned round to face him. All she said was “Alright” before she put her arms around his neck to pull him close and kiss him. It happened so fast she didn’t have time to react. Vincent had her back up against the wall; he hiked one of her legs up and around his waist and slipped into her, making her gasp and then moan in surprise pleasure.

As he started moving inside her, filling her up and taking her to the brink yet again, Zariah couldn’t help but realize that the explosive force of their chemistry was the only thing binding them together. The magnetic attraction they both couldn’t escape. They barely knew each other well enough to be best of friends, but for now, none of that mattered. For now, they were what the other needed, and they were right where they needed to be.

The End.

Gin & Coke II

Posted: September 26, 2014 in Passion
Tags: , , , ,
3

endorphins

Zariah lay in bed, looking up at the rotating hands of the ceiling fan in her room. She kept going over the events of the previous night in her head — the laughing and the dancing, then her unexpectedly passionate response to Vincent’s kiss. Her memory wasn’t as sharp as it should be courtesy of all the drinking, so she was having a hard time recalling specific details but the jolt of electricity she felt flow down her spine whenever she remembered the kiss more than assured her that it did happen and it was not just a figment of her tipsy imagination.

She reached for her beeping phone on her bedside table. She couldn’t help the smile that crept to her lips when she saw who had sent the text. Vincent was checking in to find out if she got home safe and to let her know he was at his place. The party wasn’t as much fun after she left, so he had also taken off not long after. Zariah knew what she was feeling was nothing more than an endorphin rush that is coming with meeting someone new, someone who finds you just as attractive and is as curious as you are to know more, to share more.

As she walked away from Vincent on shaky legs after the kiss, she felt a little disoriented emotionally. She felt dazed from the explosive chemistry the touch of their lips had unleashed, and she couldn’t wait to get away and be alone to process what had happened fully. She could hear his footsteps behind her. He didn’t say a word till she was sitting inside the cab. He appeared to want to say something but sighed instead. He bent down till his face was parallel to hers and gave her a peck on the cheek through the window before the cab drove away.

Four weeks flew by in a sea of phone calls and text messages. Vincent and Zariah’s friendship was in full honeymoon mode. Zariah had managed to pass the kiss off as a moment of drunken weakness that could not and would not happen again. She loved Femi very much, and that meant she couldn’t make room for any distractions. He had been away for two years now, and the long distance had started to put a strain on things, but she had faith in them. Just two more years to go and his program overseas would be over.

Vincent could not get Zariah and the kiss off his mind. It felt like a dam had burst, and he couldn’t control the emotions that were pouring out. He noticed how she had laughed off the kiss when he brought it up during one of their chats. Vincent sensed she didn’t want him to probe her too much about it. But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had felt it also. He knew she was drawn to him just as badly as he was to her. Vincent had looked forward to seeing her on the tracks again the following weekend, but she had been a no show. Later during the day when he called to ask her why she didn’t come, she told him the swimming lessons were on hold because Sola, her instructor, was out of town. When Vincent offered to teach her, she said she was busy studying for her final exams. At first, he wasn’t sure if she was trying to shake him off or if her excuses were genuine. They had managed to talk about everything but the elephant in the room. He decided not to push and just let things flow naturally. He didn’t want to do or say anything to make her pull away. She was the most exciting thing to have happened to him in a long while.

Zariah finished writing her last paper with a huge sigh of relief. After two months of steady studying and exams, she felt like she could finally breathe. She went straight home to take a shower and plumped down on the couch to watch TV. Her parents were out of town, and she was by herself. She wondered what Vincent was up to and decided to give him a call.

“I just left the office. I’m on my way to grab dinner before heading home. Care to join me?” was the first thing Vincent said as soon as he answered her call. Zariah had to smile. He had been trying to get her to have lunch or dinner with him for the past 2 and a half months. Now that her exams were over, she had no more excuses to give, and he knew that. There was nothing good showing on TV anyway, and she was bored. Zariah had not seen him since the night of the party, and she couldn’t deny the fact that she wanted to see him again. They had grown quite close over the past couple of weeks.

“Sure, why not. Come get me.” She ended the call and went to her room to get dressed. She had described where she lived to him during one of their endless chats. Zariah put on her favorite Ankara shift dress and slipped into a pair of flat sandals. She brushed out her hair but didn’t bother with makeup. It was a little after 6 pm, and she didn’t care. It wasn’t an occasion, just dinner, and drinks with a friend.

“I’m outside,” Vincent’s text on her phone read. She picked up her purse and left the house. He was standing next to his car in front of the house; he was on the phone and didn’t notice her come out at first. When he did, a big smile spread across his face, and he ended the call. She walked up to him, determined not to let the immediate rapid beating of her heart slow down her pace. She smiled and hugged him.

“It’s good to see you again. You look good.” Zariah said. Vincent squeezed her a bit before letting go. He was as thrilled as a schoolboy on Christmas morning. He had been a little surprised when she had agreed to join him for dinner. She usually turned him down for one reason or the other. He planned on entertaining her to the fullest. He opened the passenger door for her to get in.

Three hours later they were seated in a jazz bar, listening to the band play and laughing at how stuffed they were. Their initial awkwardness in the car had melted away as the conversation had picked up during dinner. Afterward, Vincent had told her about a little place he knew where the live band played excellent music. Zariah was feeling quite relaxed in Vincent’s company and wasn’t quite ready for the night to end. After a while, he asked if she wanted to dance, and she said yes. He led her to the dance floor and pulled her close. Being so close to him made her a little uncomfortable because she was afraid her body would betray her, and he would feel her trembling. It was almost like each time their bodies touched fireworks went off. The sparks gave her goosebumps.

Vincent held one of Zariah’s hands in his as he drove her home later that night. Ever since they got off the dance floor, he had been unwilling and unable to let her go. She didn’t seem to mind although she had an amused look on her face. As soon as he put her in the car, he practically hopped to the driver’s side to get in. Immediately after placing the vehicle in drive, he took her hand in one of his and drove with his other hand, only letting go when he needed to. They said little to each other on the ride back to her place. The atmosphere in the car was too charged for words. Vincent kept stealing glances at her face to try to get a read of what was going on in her head, but Zariah just stared blankly ahead.

Zariah took off her seat belt as soon as Vincent stopped the car in front of her house. She reached across and pulled Vincent’s face down to her as she finally gave in to the blazing need he had awoken deep inside her. Zariah kissed him as if her life depended on it. She could feel his hands on her face, on her neck, in her hair.

She had taken him completely by surprise with the kiss. At the party, when he had kissed her for the first time, Vincent had sensed that she was not the type to hold back, but this was something else. He lit up like a switch. Now he was kissing her back just as passionately. He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged to pull her head back so he could nuzzle her neck and gently nibble on her collarbone. Her sharp intake of breath turned him on even more. His own need was almost making it impossible for him to see clearly. He wanted her like he had craved nothing in a very long time. He kissed her till they both had to come up for air.

Zariah stood in front of Vincent in her bedroom. They had finally managed to make it into the house, and it was a miracle they hadn’t torn each other’s clothes off. One by one, she started taking off her clothes as he did the same. When she had stripped down to her bra and panties, she walked to the bed and sat down facing him. The yearning in her eyes burning brightly.

Vincent did not take his eyes off of her as he took off his clothes. His eyes followed her as she walked towards the bed, lingering on her full breasts as she sat down. He heard himself exhale and say, “Gosh, you’re beautiful!” He found the light switch on the wall and turned it off before walking purposefully to the bed and into her open arms to claim her lips once more.

To be continued.

 

Gin & Coke

Posted: September 4, 2014 in Passion
Tags: , , , , , , ,
4

gin&coke

She eyed Vincent as he walked up to her, two bright red plastic cups in his hands. She had only ever said hello to him once or twice before on the tracks whenever she was passing by on her way to the swimming pool. She had finally decided to do something about her irrational fear of water and had been taking swimming lessons at the university campus on the weekends. Her parents’ place wasn’t too far from the campus. She couldn’t fit in any time for fun activities during the week, what with back to back classes and her final exams in a couple of weeks. She wanted very much to tick “Learn how to swim” off her bucket list before her graduation.

The task was proving to be a lot harder than she had anticipated. She could not control the panic attack that creeps in as soon as the instructor let go of her hands in the pool. Nevertheless, she wasn’t giving up yet and was determined to conquer her aquaphobia.

Zariah’s first impression of Vincent was that he looked unassuming, and he undoubtedly had a thing for her. He wasn’t bad to look at either. She could always feel his eyes on her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. Sometimes, she could see that he wanted to say something to her but would change his mind and continue jogging. She could have made things easier for him and stopped to chat, but she wasn’t ready for any unnecessary distractions in her life at the moment. Those final exams needed to acing and that required undivided attention to her books. Besides, she already had a boyfriend, and Femi was just her kind of perfect.

Vincent handed one of the plastic cups to Zariah. There was loud music blaring from one of the speakers nearby so he had to lean in close to tell her gin and coke was all he could find. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice how sweet and soft she smelled, and it wasn’t just the perfume.

Vincent couldn’t believe his luck when Zariah walked into the room. He was getting bored and was just about bailing when he saw her. Vincent had first noticed Zariah a couple of weeks ago on her way to the pool. He had discovered how peaceful the campus tracks were early in the morning on the weekends and had started taking advantage of those periods, between 6 and 8 am, to go for his morning jogs. She usually came alone, her stride steady. Her face a blank canvass that made him itch to know what was going on behind those eyes.

Sometimes, when they were within ear shots of one other, she would give him a slight smile and mumble a greeting. But she never stopped walking. Vincent was used to girls being openly flirtatious with him and trying to chat him up. He knew he was in great shape and a knockout in the looks department. But even though he was running shirtless looking like something out of a GQ magazine, she looked right at him, then past him like he was just another lamp post on the side of the road.

Because her expression was always so unreadable, he couldn’t tell how she would react if he tried to strike up a conversation. He couldn’t take being rejected, especially by her. She wasn’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, but there was just something about her. She always appeared so relaxed and calm, like nothing could ruffle her feathers. She had bright eyes that beckoned a challenge, and he could tell just by looking at her that she was a lot more than she appeared. He had this urge to peel away her cool exterior, layer by alluring layer and discover what lay underneath.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, and I was just about to head out when you came in,” Vincent said as Zariah took a sip of her drink.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here either. Sola told me it was just a small barbeque drinks thingy. Didn’t think there would be so many people here, and the music is almost deafening”. Zariah replied. She had to raise her voice to make herself heard.

Sola was Zariah’s swimming instructor and a good friend of Vincent’s. He had invited them both to the party and had introduced her to Vincent when she told him he looked familiar.

Two cups of gin and coke later, Zariah began to loosen up a bit, and the conversation between her and Vincent started to flow more effortlessly. He was charming and funny and had her giggling for most of the night. He was a bit older than he looked and was in a long-distance relationship with his high school sweetheart. He hoped to have twins when he eventually settled down. He spoke intelligently without being off-putting, which she found very sexy. Zariah had a thing for intelligent minds. It was a big turn on for her.

Vincent didn’t expect to find Zariah’s company so refreshing. She wasn’t as immature or naïve as one would expect most university girls her age would be. Zariah was intelligent and smart and could hold her own. They talked and laughed and danced all night till she decided it was time for her to leave. He didn’t want her to go, but she had stayed a lot longer than she had intended and thanked him for a very entertaining evening.

Her cab was waiting outside. She had drunk enough to make her quite unsteady on her feet, so Zariah held on to Vincent as he walked her out of the compound. She was still laughing at something he said when she felt him turn her into his arms for what she was expecting to be a good night hug. Instead, she found her arms going around his neck as if being pulled by gravity as Vincent lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her like it was the most natural thing.

Vincent had acted on pure impulse when he pulled Zariah into his arms. He could not imagine ending the night without holding her close, feeling her soft, supple body against his and kissing her breath away. Vincent had half expected her to push him away, not respond like they had done it before. He was elated. The unexpected spark of chemistry the touch of their lips together ignited was shockingly intense. He pulled her closer and kissed her harder still.

The night wasn’t going quite as planned for Zariah. The last thing she had wanted to do was kiss Vincent, but the alcohol and their cheerful drunken banter at the party had dulled her inhibitions, and that zing she felt when his lips touched hers was her undoing. She found herself returning his kiss just as hard, digging her fingers into his neck and pulling him closer till they broke apart gasping for air. As the cold night breeze washed over her Zariah blinked and turned away abruptly, her knees shaking as she walked towards the cab. What the hell just happened!!

 

To be continued.

 

Clueless Bride: Hitched

Posted: February 8, 2014 in Love & Life
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
6

Happy New Year!!! Yes, I’ve been AWOL for way too long and as such, disappointed a lot of you who have been patiently waiting for my next post. I have no valid excuse to give. Consistency is a trait I’m sadly lacking in, but I promise to work at it. I know on the long run it would definitely be an added advantage for me. We’re 39 days into the New Year and although things aren’t moving quite as fast as I’d like, it’s not been all bad. At least, I finally found the will power to put down another post.

I got some requests to write a follow up story for Clueless Bride. You wanted to know what happened with her and the wedding. Well, why don’t you find out…

bride

So, she got married. Tori stood at the balcony of their new apartment enjoying the evening breeze. She remembered waking up the morning after the wedding with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was about to begin a new and exciting chapter in her life but she could not help but mourn a little the life she was leaving behind. She was going to miss her independence above all. For the past 7-8 years she had been living life on her own terms and she had become quite settled and used to that.

Nevertheless, she was eagerly looking forward to her new life. She had married Dapo, her rare gem. There were no buts, ifs, or maybes tied to the love he had for her and she wasn’t blind to how lucky she was to have him in her life. For someone like her, with such a restless spirit, Dapo was her rock and anchor. He kept her thoroughly grounded and took great care of her in such a way that made her say a silent prayer to God to bless him every day they were together.

During the weeks leading up to the wedding, when she had been expecting the proverbial pre-wedding jitters to make themselves known, Tori had been calm. No cold feet. No anxious butterflies. The only obvious manifestation of how her subconscious was handling the impending life-changing event was the sudden unhealthy craving she had developed for Cadbury’s Crunchie Bar. The craving got so bad she was chucking down a chocolate bar a day, every day, for close to four weeks. She still had a bar the day before her wedding. At first, she was worried about not fitting into her dress, what with all the chocolate she had been consuming on a daily basis. That was until she realized she was hardly gaining any weight. It was almost like her body was breaking it down & burning it faster than she was stuffing it in. Tori was soon to learn that the stress of planning a wedding can do crazy things to a girl’s hormones. Her body was determined to shed weight no matter how junk filled her diet was. If only it could always be that way. Of course, all that inexplicable weight shedding stopped as abruptly as it started, almost as soon as she said “I do”.

The wedding itself had been everything Tori didn’t want. Her plan for a theme wedding hadn’t panned out. Convincing her mother to let them have the wedding on a small scale proved too difficult a task. Being her mother’s only girl did nothing to help the situation. She was bent on throwing a lavish wedding for her daughter come what way. In the end, Tori and Dapo inevitably had to give in.

The wedding reception had been teeming with so many guests, half of them complete strangers to Tori. It was a miracle 90 percent of them found seats. Dapo had had the good sense to book a large hall just in case. Tori had gone for a relative’s wedding once where the number of guests had surpassed the hall’s capacity and quite a number of them had nowhere to sit. She just could not have that happen at her wedding. All the same, there were so many people at the reception that she sincerely hoped the refreshments were enough to go round. In other words, it was a giant merry circus! And the moms couldn’t have been happier. Tori recalled seeing the look of sheer delight on her mother’s face during the ceremony and smiled. All the pomp and pageantry had been worth it just to see both her mother and mother-in-law so happy.

Nevertheless, Tori was still disappointed about not being able to have her small and intimate dream theme wedding. Not just that, the cost of all that circus had cut deep into their pockets, the very thing Tori had been trying to avoid from the get go. Five months later they were still recovering from the financial blow.

Apart from the fact that they had not been able to really enjoy the celebration of their union, so many little details they had tried to infuse into the ceremony to make it truly theirs had been left out. The wedding cake had been a total disaster, no thanks to the seemingly competent but apparent psycho the cake maker turned out to be. The unstable lady almost caused a scene for no rational reason. Tori only got to hear of it after the wedding. Then there were the groomsmen who completely forgot to pick up their outfits. Tori had to laugh out loud at the memory of how absolutely mis-matched the wedding train looked when she and Dapo were dancing down the isle at the reception. Her bridesmaids had looked fabulous in their glittering pink sequin gowns, while the groomsmen, with no matching suits to complement the ladies, had to make do with their traditional attires. It really did look like scene from a circus show. The ceremony had been delayed due to unexpected rain, the wedding programs had been left behind, the photographers had also been late getting to the hotel to take shots of Tori getting prepared. Dapo’s pant leg had been too long. Nora, God bless her heart, had gotten on her knees to pin up the hem of the trousers. And to top it off, they weren’t fed. They had been left at their place on the stage sitting pretty. It wasn’t until they got to their hotel around 10pm that they had their first proper meal that day. Before the ceremony, Tori and Dapo had made up their minds not to let anything about the day bring their spirits down, so they had smiled through it all.

Nora, Tori’s best friend and maid of honor, had done a superb job with the bridesmaids ensembles, right down to their pretty shoes. She had been with Tori every step of the way. Making sure she didn’t overlook or forget any single detail. Nora had done her makeup and dressed her up and made sure she never lost her composure. She had been nothing short of an angel and Tori really could not begin to imagine how she would have coped without all her help. Of course, they had butted heads different times but it couldn’t be helped. Tori was a little stubborn and Nora couldn’t stand for any nonsense. Nevertheless, Nora had had her back when it mattered the most and she would always be grateful to her.

Tori’s new life took some getting used to. Settling into the new apartment hadn’t been the piece of cake she had assumed it would be. Five months after moving in and she still wasn’t done unpacking. The new routine of things had also been a tad frustrating, but she was learning to adjust. Commuting to and from work had now become her biggest challenge. Her usual 5-10 minutes commute had now become an hour’s journey in bad traffic that often left her almost as cranky as a babe in wet diapers.

To top it off, the miraculous pre-wedding weight loss had done an equally miraculous 1800 turnaround which Tori was finding a hard time adjusting to. Her bum had become rounder and her hips a bit wider. It meant quite a number of her clothes didn’t fit right anymore. But on the upside, she was definitely curvier, looking more like a woman and less like the teenage girl she was often mistook for. For that reason alone, she decided to embrace her new figure. That and because she was finding it increasingly difficult to lose the weight anyway. Tori envied Dapo’s ability to practically wish himself back into shape whenever he felt he had piled on a few pounds. She decided to concentrate more on exercising to keep fit.

All in all, Tori had no regrets about finally jumping the broom. Ever since her parents split, she had been a closet commitment-phobe for a long time. But Dapo had been patient. He had bid his time and waited for her to come to him, and in the end, she was glad she did. Now, she couldn’t wait to plan their one-year anniversary. There would be period costumes and singing and dancing, the whole 9 yards. And this time, not even wild horses could make it go any other way.

Tori grinned to herself as she prepared a cocktail and settled in front of the TV to watch her current favourite TV show, BONES. She was clueless no more. She knew exactly what she wanted and she really couldn’t wait to get started. Planning her wedding had been more than enough practice… 🙂

 

Sweet Musings…

Posted: July 26, 2013 in Love & Life
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
14

muse

We’ve always had a great relationship. It’s never been about rules of religion, and You don’t care for formalities and whatnot. All You want to know is what’s in my heart. I can almost hear You say “Come child, talk to Me”.

So I bring it all to You. The good, the bad, the big, and the small. And You patiently listen to it all. My dry jokes, my heartaches; You laugh with me (or I want to believe You do) and console me in turn. I am at my best, my calmest, and my most content, my soul and spirit at peace, after one of our talks, no matter how long or short it is. You accept me with all my flaws and mistakes, without judgement, and love me unconditionally. No matter how far I stray off Your chosen path for me, You’re always there, watching my every step, guiding my feet back to Your ever-open arms.

And when Uncle S, the love of my life for so long, died when I was 13, I couldn’t understand why You would take the only man who would have moved the moon for me away from me so abruptly. I was all torn up in heart and spirit. I would see his face everywhere I turned, haunting me.

I turned to You for answers. I asked that You please help me make sense of it. The wind had been knocked out of my sails and I was flailing, struggling to catch my breath. I cried till there were no tears left to shed. And one night, after crying myself to sleep yet again, You made him appear to me in a dream, to console me and give me a chance to say goodbye. You made me understand that his time had come and he had to go, and he was at peace. I was able to move on because of You.

I can almost see You smile at my impatience, and laugh at my childlike delight when You surprise me yet again with a silver lining. I can almost hear You say “trust your instincts” or “don’t be fooled” whenever I’m in doubt or confused as to how to move forward when I’m at a crossroad. I can almost feel Your presence protecting me when I come into harm’s way. Keeping guard the way a mother hen would do for her chicks. And You watch out for not just me, but everyone I love and care about.

And when the dark times come, when I cannot seem to be able to forge ahead or I feel like I’m drowning in despair, You ALWAYS show me the light at the end of the tunnel, making little my insecurities and wiping away my anxieties, providing me with a miracle just in the nick of time. Never burdening me with more than I can handle. You have shown me love; You have shown me how to love; and You have given me love, the greatest gift.

I am fit to burst with the boundless, unquantifiable love I have for You. You are my Greatest love, my Lifeline, my Confidant, my Savior. What more can I ask for…

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