“How old are you, Mummy?”
Pretending not to hear, I ignored his question.
“Mum!” I said, “How old are you?”
“Sorry, I can’t tell you.”
“But Daddy told me his age”, he informs me
“And you told everyone in your class” his sister interjected.
“I won’t tell anyone”, he defended himself, giving her the eye.
Years from now, will he remember this conversation? Maybe not. Will my age matter to him? I think so, because he told me, “I don’t want you to grow old”. So the idea is he will keep growing to meet up with me and make Ofe his girlfriend (she used to be in his class/school), but I’m banned from getting old.
Someone or something he saw must have told him that when people grow old, they die. Sadly, these days it is not so. I don’t want to fill his head with the intrigues and business of death, so I’ll enjoy every today and tomorrow we have.
“No, I won’t tell you my age, it’s safer that way.” The conversation ended.
©2017. Frances Kelvin Otung. All rights reserved