The young girl in me failed to tell me. Childhood like riches sprouted wings too and disappeared into speckles of longings. Just yesterday, I laughed hard like my tongue was stumbling on air, learnt the steps of the rain, like typewriters on paper, writing on the ground the stories not walked upon, gossiped with the stars. My street was my runway where I cat-walked, fashioning my bare body, daring the world to blush red with my sable silliness. And on nights, when grannies spun stories from their fading loom of memories, I always caught the moon smiling like a conspirator as my eyes grew into round crystal balls filled with wonder. My little chubby fingers, unaware of fear, would craft dreams into sandcastles on the shores of my imagination.
Then I stopped to anchor my breath and blinked a few seconds longer, seconds raced into decades making me a stranger in a house that once was mine…. I wonder who changed the decor because curves rolled out of places where lines proudly stood, soft molds eroded out of flat surfaces, even empty flowerpots became overgrown with lush curls. Sometimes my body would quake with unknown demands but no one handed me a manual on how to manage my new home…. Dawn didn’t help either for she spoke with too many languages jostling in her mouth. Too many ‘don’ts’ I couldn’t wrap my hurricane thoughts around like ‘don’t let a boy sweep your room, or he’ll steal your tomorrow’. A tomorrow with whom I now stand in the mirror, searching for truth… in the size of my lips, the shape of my legs or the curve of my hips… but it glazes.
Dawn Baridor: “A native of Bane, Ogoni in Rivers State, Nigeria. I graduated from the University Of Port Harcourt where I studied Biochemistry. I love music, beauty and nature. I write out my daily experiences.”