Poetry

Throwback story: Fickle, like the Wind

Imisioluwa Ifedayo

I had a small room where I lived while serving.

It had my mattress on the floor, a reading table standing against the wall closest to the only window in the room-

The window had a banana tree planted just behind it, it was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the season of the year – during cold hamarttan nights, it shields the cold wind from entering at full speed, although it still trickles in enough to make me hold on to my blanket all night, and it also held back dust substantially, I was always grateful for that. Then there was my cloth hanger at the end opposite to the bed.

I had a thick carpet covering the floor too. Little cozy room that looked like a love nest for first time visitors, the light was always dim lighter-blue at night, with soft music never stopping from the speakers standing at different directions in the room.

At the beginning, I designed the room in a way that my lagos lover would love it and feel at home whenever she visited, I imagined us snuggling under the sheets late in a cold evening with Ed Sheeran’s Perfect playing – I had created all that in my mind, but one thing I did not consider was that love, like life, is actually unpredictable, fickle as the wind.

She never visited.

So I was left with just dreams of what could have been. I kept the dream for a long time till the pictures became blurred out and I had to let it go, gradually, like a scene in a movie vanishing away slowly, until there was nothing left of the dreams.

At midnight sometimes I’ll stand by the window looking at the full moon standing ontop of the banana tree, imagining what it would have been like having my lagos lover with me, both of us standing, hands across our waists looking out at the moon and dreaming.

When your lover fall in love with someone else, there is nothing you can do about it. You just watch them leave. And you’ll always wish you have done something differently.

Most times, there’s nothing you could have done. It is just meant to be.

Imisioluwa

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