I know what would become of a bee-hive of activity if the bees as a result of an inclination to their well-being developed a strong sense of urgency to be in some other place.
I know because I have seen it first hand: In our living room, every time the sounds of heavy metal in contact with the hard asphalt drive way announced his return. I also know that the little time my dad took to close the gate and rev his engine to idly park the car in front of the garage door was enough time for my elder brothers to arrange the living room, get me watching my favourite kid’s channel at a volume not only a third of the previous but suitable to dad’s finely sensitive ears and make a fast exit opposite to his entry.
Older me can now understand why my siblings always put that much distance between them, the pocketful of treats and the loving fatherly pats on the back. Like theirs did, my growth has made sure of the fact that after am locked out of the privileges that accompany the younger years, am hurled into the ; where, when, why, how and who kind of questions. Questions that are always backed up by a version of a fatherly gaze that is only preserved for his business competitors.
From the time age happened, I would give anything and everything not to get an update in years, to be the youngest version of me. Anything to be that;
small innocent lad who has a hundred percent trust in his mother’s recipes, the hopeful dreamer who has that belief of being the next superhero arresting local villains in nets of spider webs, the fearless prophet of the people ( siblings) to the throne of god (master bedroom).
Thank you God, for by your grace I have been born again so can be young again.
I give everything so I can be once more; a courageous, trusting and loving son.