Cunny-Cunny Love.

It started with a friend request on Facebook.

It was one of his names that prompted her to click on the confirm button. It was the name of a love she had lost, buried in an unmarked grave in eastern Nigeria, it was the name of another love in the present, steady and crazy. It felt custom built mostly but sometimes it felt like living beside a dragon. It was also the name of a love that could be hers in the future if she dared, but she was a coward where her heart was concerned, and that might never change.

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Lessons from the road to the well.

I was reading the first four chapters of the gospel as recorded by St John recently, and I discovered something in the first three verses of chapter four that I had never seen before. The words literally jumped out of the pages of my copy of the Message Bible and hit me in the gut.

Grandma Omnieverything

 

So we walked past the empty house, a woman and her husband had lived there once but they’re dead now, both of them. I told my mother about the woman and her soursop tree and her promise to send some to my brothers and I, when they ripened.