what is your option?

Do not be an option, make your options

A SMiLE A SUNriSE...

When my heart is down and battered with the thorns of sorrow, not even a barn of happiness sets me free.

All locked up in the darkest, complex large hole in my heart, it is a hole wide enough to drench me in agony, I could only wish for a miracle.

A state of fear…

I become numb with a cold feeling, quiet like a morgue, sad like I mourn and I have no peace.

I once had joy, but that’s in the past…

Whatever took my joy does not know how much it cost, but I am at last rescued!

I was captured with a crucial pain after letting him go, the one I loved, the one I adored.

My heart was damaged! Voluminous continuous outflow of love, I was weak. Words cannot express what I felt, psychologists cannot relate what it was like, and scientist cannot formulate a formula to measure what I felt.

But… my breakthrough, what rescued me from an ended life, what showed me how to locate the sunrise from that very dark corner in my heart was just a SMILE.

LET SoMEonE

You might hate friends,

You might consider a lonely life because you don’t trust people,

You might even hate being you.

Even in our quiet times we need some outbreak of noise.

In our sad times we want to be happy again,

Even our pains we need someone to share them with, although it looks impossible but someone to encourage us is more than enough.

In trying times we push those we love; not because we mean to but because we scared. Scared of what we don’t know.

In those times we make mistakes by inviting other hands and we get to forget our true love.

A love that does not lie,

A love that endures,

A love that is true.

The truth is that:

We make the best of any situation with love,

We all have to apprehend that our lives are interconnected.

You might not need me, but you need somebody

Somebody to put you through

It not for us to neglect or ignore our situation, but for us to change it and we do that by letting someone in.

A TALE HE TOLD ME...

In our home, the biggest world you can never imagine, filled with so much to learn, so much love, care and happiness.

Henry and I are married wealthy couples and he is my best friend. I met Henry when I was 17 years old, but then guys were not my thing. All I was after was my talent “writing”. I am a writer and back then I didn’t want to be a victim of my stories. I was interested in Henry after our first contact during a conference at University Of Lagos through Jasmine my friend. Jasmine is a very talented speaker and a childhood friend to Henry. Henry has a very good personality, fluent speech and *ooops* he loves reading novels. A tall handsome and well built guy… I was glad I met him.

Henry and I got talking after we met. We spoke at length, exchanged contacts and we became close. Henry found me very exciting as he was interested in reading my stories, he was the number one fan of all stories I wrote, and he gave me so much courage to write more.

And one day after he applauded my story “my brothers love”, he said he had a story to tell me, I was excited to hear it.

He started; Once upon a time…

“Baby I promise to be a better man to always make you happy and never let you down” Femi said

“Femi! Stop all these promises! I have told you to be yourself, I love you for who you are” Sharon replied

Femi has no quality job, he worked as a plumber and earned thirty thousand naira at most in a month and Sharon owns a restaurant earning two hundred and eighty five thousand naira at least in a month in which her income is used to pay her children’s fees.

Femi yet loves surprising his wife with the little he had. While she goes to work he would go out and buy her flowers, sometimes he would compose romantic letters although he was not too good at spelling. He just wanted her to be happy.

On her birthdays he would have saved a lot just to buy food stuff and prepare a nice meal for her, her favorite “porridge and vegetable”. Femi hated porridge but it was his favorite on her birthdays, he would eat it with so much passion like he is a baby taking breast milk.

They-

I interrupted…You mean her birthday gift was just a meal?

“That’s just the way you see it” Henry said.

So he continued.

They were never sad, even when school fees comes knocking or rent comes crying there was always a plan B. To fulfill the important issues they both decide to go hungry. Even in their hunger there was love.

They both laughed at the cries of each other’s tummy. It was like a competition.

Sharon had run out of food stock for the restaurant so she had to close it.

I interrupted again… what kind of love? Love and suffering?

Who plays with hunger?

“Our present situation does not determine the end” Henry said.

There is always a plan B!

Femi started working for banks, firms, schools and other organizations. Helping them repair their water closet, taps and basin. He was paid fifteen thousand naira for every job he did, so he worked seven times a week at different places and earned a hundred and five thousand a week.

He gave Sharon eighty thousand naira every week to stock up her food stuff and her business began to boom again. She applied for a cooking competition with a reward of a duplex and a car although she had to pay a hundred and twenty thousand naira to register.

She won the competition and was known in all cooking schools and by restaurant owners worldwide.

Femi was not proud of himself…

I interrupted again… she left him abi? It’s normal that is a woman for you.

“Would you wait let me finish my story?” he said

“Okay, go ahead” I replied

Of course Sharon knows Femi too well to tell that he wasn’t happy with his status.

They both moved into the new house.

While they settled to sleep that night Sharon spoke; “Femi… do you want me to be happy?”

“Baby I would anything for you” he smiled and said, while holding her close to himself with a heavy heart filled with worries.

“Ok, I want us to work together at the new restaurant” she said

“Baby-”

“Shhh that’s all I want” she said as she kissed him good night.

He smiled and whispered “wherever you are, is where I would rather be, I love you”

THE END.

I was perplexed!

And Henry told me everyone has a story to tell, that he might not be a writer but he is a story teller and we laughed.

Each time I remember this story I have a beam on my face, my name is Helen.