The things i do not say

Missing home will make a mushy writer out of anyone…forgive me… 🙂 I start by telling you how happy i…


August 13, 2011

Missing home will make a mushy writer out of anyone…forgive me… 🙂

I start by telling you how happy i have been these past few months. I slowly ease into reminiscing about the good times we have shared. It takes a while but i get to the crux of the matter soon enough…

I am too old. You are too young.
I am Basange. You are Ibibio.
I am fat and ungainly. You are God’s most graceful creation.
You are quiet. I am like a cock hoping to outshine everyone with my loudness.
We are not meant to be.

The things that i do not say…
That it scares me that i can no longer tell where your caramel colored skin begins and my dark chocolate bark ends.
That when i look into your eyes, I see what the creator had in mind when He decided to make me and it is the most beautiful thing i have ever seen. I conveniently forget to tell you that when you kiss me goodbye in the morning, i have to stop myself from running after you and begging you to stay.

I do tell you i have watered the plants. You will not have to worry about them for a few days at least. When the pigeons come to coo at the bedroom window, the bird seeds are on the ledge. Your laundry is done. There are plenty of meals in the freezer; you just need to warm them up and eat. My bags are packed. I will call the cab myself. I need to find myself before i find you.

You cock your head to one side in that way that i love so much and stare at me. I twiddle my fingers. Scratch my head. Take a few hesitant steps forward, and then backward. I stand before you like a child waiting for punishment. I wait for you to say something. We stay like this for a while and then you ask how my day was.

It takes a while for me to answer all the questions in that one question. When i am finally able to, i am in your arms and it doesn’t matter anymore.
Song of the day: Jem -Wish i

  • Ibibio

4 thoughts on "The things i do not say"

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.required

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Related Posts

  Most people ask why most my stories are set around Igbo characters…especially as i am a Yoruba girl who…


I often wonder which of us, of all my father’s children will miss him the most. Everyone tends to deign…


Memory cheats. In this game called life, memory knows it has the upper hand. And so it waits till it…


“Bi Igbin ba fa, ikarahun a telé e.” His voice is like ice cubes on my sun drenched skin on…


%d bloggers like this: