There are two tragedies in life, one is to lose your heart’s desire, and the other is to gain it- George Bernard Shaw

There are staggeringly few situations where I would be called genius and fewer still where I will be called wise; however I do know that I have learnt from my trophy mistakes. It is kind of like being slapped with really cold water on a chilling winter day. Ah… yes I have certainly learnt my life lessons and I am still winning the trophies for making my all too smart decisions and paying for them dearly.

Ok,  I know I’m rambling on and on so I’ll get to the point or at least tell you what I’m about. I’m picking off the details one by one, now you know quite a number of things about me, I’m not smart or wise hence I make trophy mistakes so now I’ll just tell you my story….

It was the millennium night, we all held our breaths as the clock struck 12, I for one was still quite ridiculously young at heart, mind you I did not say I was young in body, anyways I was so young at heart… ultimately trusting and grossly naïve. I’m the first and only girl of two kids, and something of a free spirit; my father had instilled in me the thirst for life and its absurd ideals. On this millennium night I sat alone outside our block of flats, on a rubber tyre swing, completely unaware of the strange lure I held for opposite sex hadn’t even tapped remotely in to my sexuality. Oh yes the innocence of youth… so here I sat alone swinging slowly as I sipped from my bottle of coca-cola. It was a cold night and I all I had on was a short cotton dress, I shivered as the breeze swirled around me, and then I heard a door close and saw my best friend in the whole world walk towards me. I smiled gingerly, and said at the top of my lungs,

“Happy New Year!” I hadn’t a care in the world.

I was already smiling when he walked over to me, my feet barely touching the wild grass that grew at the base of the tree as the tyre swung slowly. He was what one could call my guardian angel, I as a kid did everything possible to get into trouble and he…well always bailed me out.

I remember faintly walking up to him while he played police and thief with the neighbor-hood boys, I asked to join in the game and of course he refused, I played anyways and won, and asked him to be my best friend because I thought he was the cutest. Strangely, that day I pushed and teased him mercilessly, but he kept playing, It is not a magnanimous thing I did but still I’m happy to say we have been best friends since I walked up to him, I trusted him wholly and completely. Years to come I will look at this day and sigh at its perfection, this day got me through one too many painful circumstances, the purity of heart and soul, friendship and love… this ten year old was perfectly happy…

He came to stand behind me, he pushed the tyre hard and I went up in the air. I closed my eyes as my braids became unbound, dropped the coke bottle and I leaned back on the swing laughing when I came back down.

I love you my heart sang, l love you my mind said but I was yet to tell him.

I jumped off the swing and grazed my knee on the floor…

“Why did you do that?”

Nothing” I shrugged as I looked at my wound.

“You need to clean that, c’mon lets go to the tap”

Ok I’m going to pause the story for a minute, to elaborate on my ten year old life. Mummy and daddy worked together in a brokage company they formed together, and little did I know that my father was stealing from the investment accounts. A few hundred thousands here and there, the money went into our expensive schools, vacations abroad and a nice apartment in the suburbs. For a long time I would blame my father for being so selfish and weak, but after ‘living’ for a while I knew it was something he thought he had to do to help us have a good life. My mum knew about the missing money because she was the company accountant, and she kept quiet and turned a blind eye, in a way I understood that as well, when you love someone…you turn a blind eye to their inherent faults, that’s how it works.

So on this night I sat on the swing and talked about inconsequential things with my best friend, laughed at his corny jokes, I hadn’t a care in the world.

The next morning however is another story, that morning they came for him, barging in through our front door, while we were having breakfast, they waved a badly wrinkled warrant at my mother and dragged my father away, I stood dried eyed while mother cried, my little brother didn’t understand, but I knew this was a defining moment in our lives. Looking back now that exact moment I watched my father being dragged away, something dried up that day and that is the day I was born, using a well placed cliché, I rose from the ashes of my childhood , like a phoenix rises from its ashes.

I bet this story is getting  a wee bit familiar now, little rich girl is rich no more, big deal, but this story is not about that, this is just the beginning of the story. Don’t get disheartened just yet, you might like my tale and talk about it one day, or think about it when you are sitting alone in your parlour or use is as an example for your erring kids, but hey I’m getting ahead of myself again.

Well like I said life changed that day, mommy went job hunting after the big trial; most of our money either paid for the lawyer or went in to the repayment of the money stolen by daddy. Everyone wanted a piece of us, the media, the creditors, the court; even the landlord wanted a piece of the action. I withdrew into myself during those few months. It was always a long drive to the prison, Mummy drove her beetle, for some reason they left us with the horrid thing. Our nice Peugeot 504 had been seized during the first month after the arrest.

The creaking vehicle would torture us for an hour or so, Mummy would drive silently with an almost vacant look on her face, and my brother would play with his plastic plane oblivious to the changes around him, he was just four what did he know? I would withdraw into a book. The prison was ugly and smelly; I guess it is not enough that you are separated from your family you had be disgustingly dirty as well. Daddy was always so happy to see us, his beaming smile always made up for the horrible trip down there, we would take turns in telling him what we have been up to. He always had the right words of encouragement and love tumbling out of his mouth, needless to say I was closer to him than I was to mum. I don’t think she minded much though, I even think she encouraged it because I seemed not to talk much to anyone.

Life wasn’t terribly hard in fact looking back now, I realize my mother did the best she could. She fed us, tried to pay the bills, made sure we lacked very few basic amenities, but sometimes the best just isn’t good enough. We couldn’t keep up appearances at some point, it was hard enough with the bills piling up and the lack of money to pay them.

We moved away from the suburbs because mother could not keep up with the extravagant rent. I think that was the last straw, I cried like a little baby curled up in my room with fuchsia pink walls. He was sadder than I was, I think… for I did not see him for days after i told him the sad news, until the very day we were to leave, I was red eyed from all the crying, he just stood at my bedroom door, looking in, wary to say the final goodbye. We stood staring at each other, too sad for words. Then he stepped in and helped me pack up the remaining things I still had lying around…I remember looking out from the back window of my mum’s little car as we drove away, he was waving ever so slowly from the tyre swing, that moment I think I felt my heart break, I felt it shatter to many little bits and pieces…That was the last time I saw him for a really long time.

I had to change schools as well, Mummy could not afford my expensive secondary school, I didn’t mind much, I had just spent a year in the former school , being the awkward kid who loved to do things differently, I stood out, and I had very few friends. Daddy’s  and  the resultant  change in our financial status did nothing to help matters either, I became more introverted than ever. So when it was time to leave the prissy all girls school behind the change was not all that painful.

Ah memories are like the seductive wind after a hot sunny day, bringing the dust, scattered leaves and coolness all at the same time.

My life in those years albeit a bit poverty stricken was full of  pretty much the freedom I enjoyed just before daddy was arrested, I took long walks fancying myself lost maid, or an invincible spirit, free to wander the earth and peep into the lives of others relish in their happiness and mourn with them in their pain, so many times I dreamed this life was not my own, so many times I ignored my mother’s warnings.

When I turned fifteen I was terribly fascinated with the concept of love. I wanted it so bad I could taste it, the mere thought of being with someone in that capacity gave me so much strength. I had too much hope, I wanted to find something like what my parents had before my dad went o prison, I still remember those hot nights when I stood up from bed to get a cup of water and caught my parents in an almost lull-like position, my mother in my father’s arms reading a book and my father kissing her neck. Wonderful days those were. Now they are nonexistent. I thought about him a lot, soon I began to fancy myself in love with him, I thought of the way he always seemed to understand me, the way he made my heart flutter in my chest. We spoke on the phone; I still had the number to his land-line.

I saved money every month to make a ten minute call from the nearest call-center. If he was home we would try to swap stories quickly. Those were the days when just hearing his voice on the other end of the phone made my pulse race so fast all I could think about was seeing him again. Months quickly became years and I kept up the routine of calling him every month. I did want to see him, yes I did. So many times I tried to pick up the courage to go I would get ready pick out my clothes carefully; I wanted to look nice. Then when I was finally dressed I would sit down and breathe in slowly, every time I did it, every time I got ready, time passed so slowly while I tried to build my courage but it never worked.

One day though just after I finished secondary school, I decided yet again to go and see him, this time however there was no elaborate planning involved. I just got up one day and without the usual drama, I went to our former address.

As I entered  into compound, I saw our old tyre swing, it was still there! It looked just the same at first glance. I went to it, standing and examining it like I would a specimen through a microscope. It had grown old. The rope holding the tyre had gnawed against the rubber, telling tales of constant use. I sat on the swing it creaked under my weight, I was much taller and heavier than I was then, I closed my eyes, I kicked off my shoes to feel the cool  grass against my feet. I pushed myself up in one fluid motion, hearing the unmistakable sound of rope rubbing against wood. Suddenly I went back in time to the last New Year’s eve I spent on it, how I felt. It was exhilarating to feel that again. That moment before everything changed.

I heard a sound an opened my eyes and there he was before me, I smiled shyly. Did he recognize me?  I wondered, He had a small frown on his brow, a myriad of expressions flitted across his face before he smiled as well…I think that was when I knew he was the one, the moment my heart settled…I will marry this boy…he will be mine…

41 thoughts on “Ramblings” by Meena-Adekoya (@Olajumoke-Adekoya)

  1. Awwwwwwww,I love this so much.reminds me of my puppy love,wish I’ll marry him,he was so Purrrrrrrrfect.
    Noticed one or two typing errors which was nth to me.
    You rock dear barrister.

    1. Meena-Adekoya (@Olajumoke-Adekoya)

      thanks @gretel i was drawing from memory with this one, kinda…at least from the way i felt about my first crush, i’m glad it had the desired effect

  2. wow, neat, not as messy as your average romance and not as distant as a romance story i would write, just right. Nice one, it was long sha.

  3. right on the the typos, kai!!! its amazing how u dont see these things when u are writing Thank God for NS sha and oh yea thanks for the comment

  4. wow, neat, not as messy as your average romance and not as distant as a romance story i would write, just right. Nice one, it was long sha. touching story too.

    1. Meena-Adekoya (@Olajumoke-Adekoya)

      @Adeyinka this story was meant to be a Novel Excerpt, unfortunately this is about as far as i got wiv it, just like ‘the master’ story if not for my NS family i would not have continued it all…
      Thanks for the comment…

  5. sorry about the repeated comment, bad internet

  6. Wish love could always be sweet, but what do you know? we grow up and life happens.
    Well done girl. I love this!

  7. In the words of Mary J,’I never knew there was a love like this before’, nice one. Well done, watch out for those typos.

  8. Ooh, how sweet. Very nice, and I love the MC’s innocence. Well done.

  9. Hi Meena,
    Its been a while and it feels good to read from you again.This is very good writing, one which a person can relate to.You have a lot going for you, like I always say…..Well done!!!

  10. Nice one Meena! I found the emotional tone captivating. Your heroine seems dark yet pure. A rare combo I happen to like.

    Not going to talk bout typos, but watch out for repeating the same words in a sentence- u did that quite a bit here. That said, Good job!

    1. Meena-Adekoya (@Olajumoke-Adekoya)

      This is my paltry attempt at romance oh, i have not tried to write romance like this since JSS 3 and trust me that was eons ago…hmmmn, maybe i will go wiv the flow and continue, what do you think?

      1. I’m all 4 it! I think you’re really on to something- ‘specially since u have a head for suspense and thrillers, a romance from u could bring in some unique, interesting, mybe even dark elements. Like this chic in this story. She’s so intense- u dont know if u should love her or flee b4 she drinks ur blood! Just kiddin…but i think u know what I mean…

        1. Meena-Adekoya (@Olajumoke-Adekoya)

          not to worry if i do have time…i pray i do…i will continue and i promise to post the next part…lol at ‘fleeing b4 she drinks ur blood’

  11. So sorry for the typo guys, while reading it again just now i cringed at the number of typos, pls forgive it, credit it to lack of sleep and impatience…i’ll make sure i correct the original scout’s honor!

  12. Remember when me had this little crush on you after reading one of your poems. Think that was when me was new to the site. (meena thinking), so you’ve forgotten, eh?. Okay oh. Well this has almost done the same thing. I really like the way you tell stories. You don’t spoon-feed the reader with so much description et al but you feed the reader a little then allow the reader to pick up the spoon and continue the feeding. It’s like taking your readers on a wonderful journey. If me’d make films one day, ‘ll surely come back here to adapt some stories. And so far, got two of your stories on cue. ‘ll second @gretel. You really really rock and I really really love you for that. About typos, the didn’t affect the story one bit. Have had the oppourtunity of proofreading a lot of plays as an undergraduate, one thing is that a lotta people have usually have typos. Professionally, proofreaders and editors are usually the ones with the task of doing the correction job. So just stay with the story, okay. Keep it up.

    1. Meena-Adekoya (@Olajumoke-Adekoya)

      awwww…thanks @Jaywriter u are making me blush plenty, and no i havent forgotten…thanks for the comment, as for the typos, i am really burnt cuz its something i should have seen, they were too many…thanks for the comment dear, its greatly appreciated

    2. @Jaywriter..i am so so worried for you bro,now you are having crushes on everyone,who you go remain for us now?

      1. I tire for Jay o!


        1. i thank God everyone have noticed.

        2. err forgive my slang (or is it idiom?) illiteracy but do explain what SMH means. I see it on the site (in comment logs) a lot and it kinda painful not catching on to the gist.
          Thank you.

          1. It means Shaking My Head…lol..Don’t worry I just found it out about a month ago..

            1. lol Thanks Mercy. SMH at my ignorance. lol

              1. lol,you must not know everything now.abi?

  13. very lovely and sweet story Meena,i was hooked till the end and didnt even notice the typos.
    well done.

  14. @Meena … very good one .. yes I mean really good = great. I must admit that your style so captivates me … keep on the good work girl … u got my point!

  15. Awww, why do we always have to grow up and lose our innocence?
    This promises to be a lovely romance story, Meena, please continue it.

  16. Good story, @Meena-Adekoya. The last few paragraphs remind me of the story I wrote a while ago – ‘The Return‘ – where the main character revisits the scene of his childhood. It does feel somewhat unresolved, though.

    One thing that puzzles me is why the main character was never asked by her friend if he could visit, even though they talked regularly on the phone.

    1. ! remember reading -‘The Return’- when you posted it, yes i see the resemblance to it too in the last few paragraphs…lovely story by the way. You were one of the writers that made me think ‘wow people can write oh!!!’
      made me realize i needed to up my game asap, lol!

  17. @TolaO They are supposed to be kids i guess, was looking at the kind of freedom i had as a kid, boys even thou they were just friends were a no no the older i got, just applied it in this story instinctively even thou i mentioned that the MC had the same kind of freedom she had b4 her father’s arrest, but you are right that part needs to be resolved.
    thanks for the comment!

  18. @meena – if the story isn’t totally outlined till the end, would advise you leave the reason why the friend didn’t ask her to visit. You could surely use it to shake the story a little at the end. Just let the story flow.

  19. @paul – well kinda like a sucker for artistic talented girls who write with a certain degree of passion and emotion. So that’s it. But you’re still the man. I’m just a country boy, money I’ve got, also got silver in the stars and gold in the morning sun. That’s Don Williams oh, lol.

    1. lol,you kinda have a point there but i dont completely agree with you man.

  20. I hope you do get to finish the novel….It was truly a great story and great story telling too..Well done!!

    1. Thanks @Mercy your comment is much appreciated!

  21. You ramble beautifully. Keep it going.

    Puppy love, huh?


  22. I like the story Meena and forgive me, I couldn’t get past the errors.
    I agree with who(?) said that your MC has the blend of the innocent and the dark. Her ramblings also show that something’s up and yes, you do have the head for suspence et al. So, I say that it does have potential; tons of it.

    In all, nice work. Well done.

  23. The part where she’s leavin her old home is exquisitely described. Sobering even… Nice. Really liked this. And you really did ramble in the beginnin but you brought it home nicely.

  24. A real rambling i must say….good one….

  25. Stories like this make me wonder if I can ever write a romance story. It’s a lovely story.
    Well done, Meena. $ß.

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