What do you do with yours? Just wondering…
Have you ever had something dear to you fall out of your hand and break into a thousand pieces which made it practically impossible to glue back?
It was my heart…
I know a lot of ladies and men can identify with this, but there’s a solution to it. And that’s what “My Broken Pieces” is all about …the best part ❤
© 2015. Frances Kelvin Otung. All rights reserved
For months I remembered every stab, every second of every day. The pain was so intense that by just watching me, mum would sometimes turn away sobbing. Once she was bold enough, she confronted me head-on and spoke to me through the journey…seeking to reach my inner most being and unplug my adaptor from its source of pain. Why did her precious daughter have to go through such …? I could hear the thoughts of her heart saying “Why didn’t it end with me? Must my children go through this?”
As you tore each piece, you smiled. Enjoying the thrill my cries brought whilst ignoring my plea to stop and just rewind the times back to when this period never happened. Who would have thought that such an innocent, quiet, really handsome boy with an unassuming look could unleash such! Maybe Psychologists, definitely not me, not my mum or the people that had to suffer as I suffered for something they had nothing to do with.
Standing by the window of my class (I think I was talking with some girlfriends…the usual stuff girls talk about) and I noticed you walking pass. You had this cool look and some twitch by the corner of your lips as if to say…“go on drool, girl… I know the effect I’m having on you!” When I noticed that, I quickly looked away and pretended to be engrossed in the conversation whilst making a mental note to steer clear of you or your likes. A part of me said “he’s innocent enough…you are too strong-willed for this one”. I loved the conquest-feeling that followed. Avoid you I did, but not for long. As sometime soon you would come searching for me and I wish I had said no and walked away. I wish, “but wishes are no horses or beggars would ride”.
‘Hi Eva’, you said
‘Hi’, I replied ‘and how did you know my name?’ I continued
‘You can know anything and anyone you want if you so desire’, you said and added ‘my name is Wande’.
Immediately I got the feeling I had just met a ‘fraternity boy’ as they are the ones that go through the trouble of searching out information about anyone and to think that the day you walked past, I felt like the conqueror not knowing I was the rat walking into a gathering of cats. Wande! Or is it Wanderer? Oh, my goodness, who will deliver me from this unfolding saga, I pondered.
In poems, beautiful cards, lovely ‘hanging out’ times (such that made me wish classes didn’t have to close at the end of the day) those were your skills. Did I forget to mention the flowers? People didn’t believe in flowers anymore (especially from our side of the planet) but you were a lover to the core and knew how to ‘spoil’. I’m not given to flamboyant living, you understood this but every little act of love you showed, always made others wish they were us. 🙂
We were even called ‘Romeo and Juliet’ at some point until the other couple won that tag through their constant being together even to the point of missing classes. I didn’t mind giving the name to them, as what we shared was deeper and more private – not a matter for public debate. Besides, we had a reason for coming to school in the first place and falling in love to the point of stupidity wasn’t one of them.
My attitude to school changed, I looked forward to my transition school (College of Art & Science) more oft than nought and mum noticed my eagerness. She recalled my initial resistance to attend the school whilst waiting to get into University. This ‘new-me’ she couldn’t understand and knowing me, she knew something was up and this period wasn’t different. I couldn’t hide it from her as I needed advise too before I (we) got into trouble (you know the kind you are unprepared for).
“Darling, you have been really bright these days, what is happening to you?” she asked.
“Nothing mum, just a new friend I met”, I replied.
“What kind of friend?” she queried. Looking pained that I had hidden such information from her for so long, as we practically tell each other everything. “I’m grown, mum!” I thought silently to myself. Now I wish I had listened then. Who knows, I would have saved myself from many-a-trauma, and mum from being a team member on my sobbing committee 😦 By the time I described you in glowing colours, she fell in love with you too. You know I’m gifted with words and a beautiful picture I did paint. Mum just had to meet you…hmmm…someday soon I told her, someday soon.