Cry-Cry Baby

Yesterday, when I saw Onyinye ’s Facebook post on songs from movies and series, I remembered one of my favourite shows, the now-rested Cold Case. I was inspired to write a post about all the wonderful songs I found on the show. I was too tired to type anything, so I let it go.

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Home?

I had always thought of home as a series of addresses.
Houses with keys, my loved ones lugged in their pockets.
Rooms with corners lined with memories.
Favourite books in shelves older than me,
With the scent of camphor and old paper,
Dancing in my nostrils, sparking orgasms in my brain.

Expensive Peace.

A Facebook post about dealing with a cheating wife vs nagging wife and the comments on that post reminded me of a certain handsome man I dated a long time ago.

 

I had just come out of a longish relationship and wasn’t looking for love but Bros convinced me that we could make it work and he definitely wasn’t going to be my rebound relationship but the one I’d cherish for the rest of my life. He ticked the right boxes- similar background, same denomination, handsome af, funny. Most important of all, he got along pretty well with my family.

One Good Slap.

You could tell that she was in love with him by the way her body bounced with each word she said to him, it was like watching a puppy with a beloved master who had been away for an hour. She was nearly pretty, almost beautiful from the joy his closeness wrought.

Love Askew.

He shifted in his seat, cleared his throat and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. He was smiling when her eyes travelled the distance from the prawn sauce on her plate to his face.

“I have something to tell you, something important,” He wiggled his shoulders a little, his smile even wider.

“I think I have fallen in love with you.”

“Whatever for?” she sputtered.

The Nightshift

I was trying to rush down my breakfast because I nearly late for work, when my brother came to stand beside me with a song I couldn’t make out, playing on his phone.

“Do you know I’m listening to the original version of Easy,” he said. “Lionel Richie wasn’t the original singer.”

A roomful of books.

On this day nineteen years ago, my dad and I boarded a bus headed for Abuja that would follow the Jebba-Bida-Minna-Suleja route. I was going to Bida for the first time, Dedem Okey brought my admission letter the previous week and automatically cancelled the preparations we were making towards my accepting the admission at Lagos State Model College Badore.