I find that when I want to write, when I put my mind to it and etc, I actually write. I am not saying it is as amazing as when the spirit leads. Lol. But there is something to say for hard work.
It was an amazingly sweet November but yay to December. Yay to the God who is the Author and Finisher of our faith.
“The waves and wind still know His name. It is well with my soul.”
There were many ways to get to the place they wanted to go. Some ways were faster than others. Some of the paths were shorter than others. Most of all the ways were hard and very few were easy. And even these so called few easy ones were not so easy that you would think them walk overs. Infact, the only thing that made them easy was that they were not as hard as the others.
He wakes up before she does and looks out the window. Outside it is still dark but in the room, even though the lights are out, it is as bright as day because her light glows even while she is asleep. The first day they met, he named her “Firefly”. She had gotten mad at his audacity and ignored him for the rest of the party they had both been at.
Later she would tell him that she was angry because only one person had ever called her a light before. Her father. And he had died too soon for her to shine as brightly as she had wanted to for him.
“What does shining mean to you? What would shining mean for you?” He had asked her on their first date.
She had taken a sip of tea he had insisted she try at the Thai restaurant he brought her to before answering.
“To endure. To not waver. To be a light always for the people I love. A lighthouse they can always look for when they cant seem to find their way back home. Constant as the Northern star…”
“Shakespeare.” He said with a smile. Few women he had met knew beyond the skeletal make up of Romeo and Juliet. In that moment he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with a woman who knew the right moment to insert a line from Shakespeare.
Three months later she made him doubly sure when they went ice skating, something she had never done. He had taken her hands and led her onto the ice. Her eyes were closed and he laughed.
“Stop laughing,” she said, “For he will give his angels charge over me, to bear me in all my ways, lest I dash my foot against a stone”
He stopped laughing and kissed her then. When he came up for air, her eyes were open and shining.
“What was that for?” She asked.
He didn’t tell her it was because it was the first time someone had called him an angel.
It snowed the night before but now the sky is clear and most of the stars wink at him.
The Northern star doesn’t. Its light is unwavering, even when Nedu blinks or looks at other stars, the Northern star is steady and unmoved, like a solo ballet dancer who knows that even though the music might arrest your ears and the trappings of the stage might steal your attention away once in a while, you will always return to her. She is the star after all.
There are many ways to get to the place they want to go.
There was faith. They could wait on God’s timing and ignore the age and tiredness that had begun creeping up on their skin and souls. They could refuse to consider what everything and everyone else said and stand and see the ‘salvation of the Lord’ like many others. But that was the harder and longer road. The one road they had absolutely no control over. The road they thought they had been on but had had confused with other roads so many times. The roughest and toughest road of all.
There was also the road of adoption; an easier path. It was a road that few people could argue against, a road that involved helping others, bringing happiness to someone else. Yet everytime either of them brought it up, they felt like charlatans.
“How do we say ‘oh I want this child and not this child?'”
“I know right. It feels so wrong, this thing called choice in the matter of who our children get to be, whose parents we get to be…”
He smiles now to remember that conversation. They had been filling the forms required by an adoption agency and suddenly they had both started laughing at the questions posed in the documents.
There was the path of surrogacy which Remi had loved at first.
“Just think about it Dozie. A baby without the swollen feet, the labor pains, the putting on weight. And we could keep having sex in every uncomfortable position without our child growing up to look at us like ‘i know what you get up to, you perverts!’ ”
He chuckles now at the memory and the Northern star shines even brighter. Oluwaremilekun, woman, star, wife, lover, friend, funny bone, artist… Dear Lord, when would the ‘mother’ bit happen, would it ever happen even, he wondered.
Later as they had gotten more involved in the beginnings of the surrogacy of the process, Remi had begin to lose her light.
She stopped sleeping and used the cloak of darkness the nights afforded her as weeping sessions. She was grumpy everyday and one morning, he said the thing he regretted most since he met her.
“My goodness! Maybe it is better we are considering surrogacy if you are going to be this hormonal without even a pregnancy to show for it.”
She had not spoken to him for a whole month after that.
It had taken him that long to win her back and when he finally did, they had quietly shelved the surrogacy path.
There was IVF too, and along with it other medical options that their Doctor had educated them on.
Yesterday his mother had visited from Kachi’s, his brother’s house where she preferred to stay during her biannual visits to America.
“Mama! Ah, you came to see us? I thought you had forgotten you have another son in New Jersey.”
“Please what am I looking for in your house? Do you have any children that I am looking forward to playing with? Or is it you and Remi that will keep me company. Biko Nnadozie, don’t let me start with you…You and your wife know where I am if you are missing me that much.”
Mama too had her own path. She was a member of a white garment church and best friends with a prophet that had assured her that all that was required for Remi to get and stay pregnant was a bath in some godforsaken river at 12 midnight and some private night prayer sessions.
At first he and Remi giggled about Mama and her prophet but as time went on and miscarriage after miscarriage bloodied their garment of hope, they grew quieter and quieter when confronted with the option.
Last night after Mama left, he had picked a quarrel with Remi. Just because. She had left him grumpy in the living room and gone to bed after he yelled at her for the third time that night. When he finally found enough courage to join her in the bedroom, he had been surprised to find her awake and in his favorite negligée.
They had made love in the silence, with nothing other than his sobs accompanying their music. After, she had cleaned his tears away with her negligée and prayed over him until he fell asleep.
There is really only one right road to where they want to go. He has always known this but he forgets sometimes. The path of love. It is a path scented by the crushed flowers of forgiveness, made easier by tears of hopeful prayer and surrounded by the storm-bent but unbroken trees of faith.
Dawn is almost here and the other stars are already making their way home but not the Northern star. Dozie knows it will be gone by morning and will miss it but he doesn’t mind so much. He has his own northern star that shines day and night.
He finds his way back to bed. This time he takes his time with the loving and there are no tears. There are words that only lips bruised by love can form, humming that only bellies filled with hope can make, heart beats that only faith can drum up. And light, pure impossible light from the northern star and the firefly glowing from within her mother’s womb.
Song of the day: Bethel Music – It is well