Traveling At The Speed Of Life

You open your eyes, you’re in lane four representing the pink house in the 1500m race. You already pleaded with the house captain to let this cup pass, but they wouldn’t budge. 800 metres into the race, you throw in the towel and fall in a heap. As you’re helped up, and glucose is being forced into your mouth, out of the corner of one eye, you catch Michael giving Sarah a lollipop, which she collects and smiles sheepishly. How many L’s can a brother take?

You’re wary of Valentine’s day. You know Chisom won’t forget to get you something, worse still, you’re broke and you’ve fallen out with mom. Dad wouldn’t as much as look in your direction. It’s the unspoken rule, war with mom is war with everyone. So you ask Chike to buy you a card and a rose. You promise to refund when your fortunes change. On your way to deliver the card and roses, the principal intercepts you and seizes the items. The devil is working harder.

It’s project defence, you’ve worked hard all year for this moment. David let you borrow his lucky tie so there’s an element of confidence. Halfway into the presentation, your project supervisor denies ever supervising you, now you’re stood there wondering why human beings are the way they are. But Peter denied Jesus three times and still managed to be the rock Christianity is built on. Second chances.

On your third job, the concept of arse kissing is still alien to you. All Jane does at the office is watch movies on Netflix, but somehow you’re the one under scrutiny. You tell your boss he smells nice one fine morning, and at noon, you receive a mail that you’re on probation. You can’t help but chuckle. In the school of hard knocks, you’re taking night classes.

You’ve worked hard, paid your dues and earned a well-deserved retirement. But there’s a new problem, Emeka your son doesn’t want to have anything to do with school. You’re wary of your legacy. Nneka your beloved daughter is too soft spoken to deal with Emeka. So you decide to leave him out of the will, and a sign hangs in front of all your estates that boldly says “Beware Of Emeka My Son, And His Girlfriend”. Double Wahala (Trouble).

In the front porch of the beach house in Cancun, you pull out the last Cuban cigar. Puff after puff as you enjoy the beautiful scenery. You’ve done it all, you’ve seen it all. Spare a thought for the wife, she’ll have to continue without you, of course, bless her heart. As you apply the last piece of ink to the will, you breathe your last. Life was a rollercoaster…

And then it stopped.

Gottfried

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