Writing has been a safe haven for me, for as long as I can remember. All the nights I would sit up and pour my thoughts and feelings into my dairy_ I have shredded a couple of them in this my life time, I guess some thoughts should forever remain private.
I don’t keep one anymore, blogging has sort of taken over. Nevertheless most of my writings are inspired by my state of mind, things that happen round me, personal or otherwise. It’s become therapy.
A childhood memory comes to mind. In the earlier years of my primary days, my brother and I stayed with my grandmother for about a year or so, my parents were out of the country then. My father had however made arrangement, that we join some bus operated by his work place to and fro, from school.
I was about 7 in primary two, my brother was 11.
This particular afternoon, when school hours were over, I was on waiting on the car park with all the other kids who would commute back home on the bus. The driver was running very late, so most of the kids scattered around and engaged in games.
After many hours, he finally pulled into the car park, seeing the bus pull in; I moved to join the queue, which had sprung out of nowhere. As I made my way to a seat, my brother was nowhere in sight. The driver instructed that I go look for him.
It took me a while to locate him as he was on the park playing football. When we got back to the car pack, the bus had left, like an apparition it had vanished. It was late, we had no money, and most people had already left the school compound.
That day; we walked home, I cried all the way from Legon to Kanda where our grandma was going out of her mind with worry. She sent people to look for us.
As we paved through the streets, my little feet hurting, my eyes blood shoot red from crying_ my brother tells me, he bribed me with flowers, just to shut me up. I doubt if it worked.
I felt so exposed and helpless.
I’m kinda feeling that way today; but I’m older and yes, much wiser...(next time, i'll just ditch my brother hehehehehehhe......)
We did find our way home