As you grow older…

– as a girl –

As you get older

1. Society will make marriage a big the only deal for you

2. The constant you have in every conversation with your mum – and woe betide you, your dad – would be about your future husband

3. The only giggly conversation you might have with your best-friend’s mum, would be about the boys in your life who might be prospective husbands and how you can get them closer

4. A friend would call you every other month about their wedding details and how you can get your aso-ebi ASAP!

5. Your other friends might call you to gossip about how they can’t believe the last person who called about aso-ebi is getting married

6. You will start accumulating dresses you might never wear again.

7. Your Instagram timeline will  be filled with pictures of shiny diamond rings and captions like “I/She said yes!. You might even unexpectedly become start getting irritable, rolling your eyes every time you scroll through another one.

8. Every new guy you meet might be run through a Is-he-marriage-worthy screening in your mind

9. Your boyfriend will get wary when you seem too nice

10.Your 20-item checklist for Mr. Right might reduce to 2- Must be God fearing and maybe older than me?

As you get older, really, you realize that every one is on a different journey, no one’s life determines how yours should be, and mostly that marriage is supposed to be for two people who love each other, not just another predetermined stage in everyone’s life.

With enough time, we all find what we’re looking for, even if it was there all along.

The Old Sofa

My name is Jack’s. Jack’s Sofa. I belong to Jack.

I’ve been with him for eight years now. When Jack was in his finals in graduate school, he got me. He had said he needed to own something to start out with his life. I was lying just by the corner in the furniture store when he came in. I snickered at his youthful poise and told my friends at the store – Old cushion and Rocking chair – that surely he had come for old cushion ’cause he could never afford me.

You see, I wasn’t proud back then. I just knew who I was. A bright, soft, comfortable sofa. I was the kind of sofa you brought your homies home to settle on. I was homely, dependable and soft. Oh so soft! I was all-purpose too. You could take my cushions off and roll my insides out for an overnight rest. I was simply all a young man needed. Certainly not this young man, I was out of his league.

I was wrong. Jack had all it took to get me! The sweet softness and charisma to convince Gloria to let me go at a reasonable price, the light in his eyes when he described how much he wanted me, the enthusiasm when he counted all he had and paid for me. He said “This sofa is all I want and more” and with that, I bid farewell to Old cushion and Rocking chair, I was off to be delivered at Jack’s.

I got my name in the first two weeks after I was delivered. Jack was trying to move out and start out with his life, so he put me at the corner of the house in the mean time. Everyone that passed couldn’t help asking: Whose pretty sofa is this? You know the response. “It’s Jack’s. Jack’s Sofa”.

Jack and I and all his few belongings moved into a studio flat soon after. He was everything I wanted too. He’d handle me with care and keep me away when his boozing friends came around. He never wanted anything to happen to me. I stayed bright, soft and dependable.

Then, things changed. Jack changed.

Jack was moving ahead with his life, so he decided to redecorate his flat. He got a complete set of chairs for the living room with a proud sofa at the center. Then, he tossed me behind the house as a storage space. When anything needed fixing in the house; he’d say “I’ll just put it on the old sofa till I can get it sorted”.

I wish Jack wouldn’t use me this way, but he would, he doesn’t care much anymore. So today I decided I needed fixing too. I let out my springs and shot them deep into some item he’d dropped on me for fixing.

Now, he’d have to fix me too.

 Or throw me out.

Broken

Sometimes I stand at a distance and look at me

I see her
Walking languidly
Keeping the weight of the world steady on her shoulders
The zeal and agility that once shook her core, gone

I stand apart and look again

I see her
Walking gracefully
With such poise and strength
Assertive in every stride

I see me
A living oxymoron
Happily sad
Enchanted and repelled
Within and without
Demure and Wild
Peaceful yet violent

I see me lost, yet found.

All the bright and beautiful things in this world fade
Or do they brighten up?

Dithering

You know that feeling old people get when they notice the first greying strand lurking in the midst of their dark mane?

I felt it today.

It’s the same feeling you get when you hear the invigilator yell “30 minutes left” and you look down at your still empty examination script.

Still the same feeling when you’re in a four hundred meters race and in your exhaustion you look up to find your counterpart a few more steps away from the finished line while  you still have a lap to go.

It isn’t about the physical feeling; like a growling in the belly or a skip in one’s heartbeat, it’s the sense of urgency it brings.

Knowing there’s so much to do in so little time.

Knowing the days aren’t measuring up to the goals written.

Knowing that getting a little laxer might get it all crashing down

Today makes it two years since I bagged a degree in Mass Communication

I still question if this is the dream.