She was My first Love

Dear Readers,

Welcome to June. June is a wonderful month for me filled with lots of memories. A couple of days from now i will be marking another new chapter of my life. Ohh don't get me wrong, its just that I will be celebrating my ........th birthday.

So, to start of the wonderful weekend i laid my hands on ESCAPADE Awakening, a Bhutanese novel by Doji Dhratyul.

Oki, Are you still feeling the Poll Hangover? Wake up Guys. It's a new day and the Poll results are all over. Not seriously inclined with Politics, i missed the opportunity to cast my secret or sacred (as have been the reading in the media) vote. I missed the NC Election too. Never mind, i have finally thought to cast my sacred vote in the final round, i.e on 13th July 2013.

Feel the rain, the onslaught of summer. Its been raining for days. I like it today morning rain and sun.It was amazing.

However, i would like to leave my readers with this short creative story. Very sweet and beautiful but non the less sad. No matter what, it is worth reading. The simple language format used by the writer and the way it is narrated further exemplifies the underlying of the story.

Hope you will enjoy it.

She Was My First Love

Just like the queen of the night oozes its fragrance at night time, reminding it of a day that was beautiful and giving it hope of another beautiful tomorrow, so is this story of mine. A story of two young minds, finding a common understanding and appreciating the value of friendship, togetherness and love. Even though the forces of nature sometimes destroy the beauty of the world, we still appreciate the times that we were happy and thank God for giving us the good old memories to muse over and merry in.

The age was seven and the class was primary two. Significant things, difficult to forget happened that year. It was the first and only time I topped the class, it was the first and only time I won a prize and it was the first and only time I had an almost perfect friend and lost her.

Her name was CHIDINMA.

She was my classmate, new in the school, fair in complexion and I thought she had behavioural problems because she was really slow with everything she did, both academically, in movement and in speech. Everyone in class saw her as a ‘dollard’ who could not comprehend a thing and struggled to be a step ahead of the least. I didn’t see her that way. Maybe I was biased. Why shouldn’t I be? She was beautiful and always had that look in her eyes like the looks I saw in the eyes of the hollywood actresses. She reminded me of the movie ‘ANNIE’ whenever I looked at her.

My likeness for Chidinma grew and I was always happy going to school every morning. My mum thought I had suddenly fallen in love with school. It wasn’t school mum, it was Chidinma. I shared my biscuits with her on one of her lonely breaks and from that day, we became friends. Only then did I discover she wasn’t the ‘isi aki’ everyone thought she was. We grew from class mates to friends and from friends to close friends. She neglected the girls when they called her ‘spoilt’ for preffering the company of the opposite sex during break and I neglected the boys when they called me ‘woman wrapper’ for choosing Chidinma instead of playing ‘police and thief’ with them.

Soon, my Chidinma began to bloom academically, proving my instincts right and proving the other pupils wrong. She must have needed time to settle in properly which I guess was the reason for her initial poor scores. I liked her even more after her breakthrough.

We used to walk home together, holding her younger ones and sharing tales we wouldn’t tell the others at school. She became my best friend as we fondly called it back then. We shared biscuits, talked about things appropriate for our ages, and sometimes, I resisted the urge to do those things I saw people do in movies to her. Yea, I resisted the urge to kiss her.

During the Christmas holidays, I volunteered to follow my aunty whenever she was going to the market because I knew we would always pass her house along the route. I used to peep in and wave if I saw her but if not, I’ll just go to the market feeling the pains of an unfulfilled mission. This I did until she travelled to her village to spend the new year. I waited patiently. Built up my courage and rehearsed a scene on how I’ll kiss her when she returns. I didn’t know much about love, I was too young to know but the feelings I had for her was next to love if it wasn’t love.

Then…

The day of resumption… Three days…. One week…. Two weeks…. Absence.
Then an obituary…

Her fair face, smiling in black and white with her mother and siblings. The siblings I used to hold. It was her, involved in a ghastly motor accident, burnt beyond recognition. Number plates, tooth and other little clues were used to identify them. Her family was wiped and I couldn’t hold back as hot tears filled my eyes. I knew what death was at seven and it meant I’ll never see her or her little ones again. I’ll never get to kiss her.

And I went to school everyday, looking at her vacant seat, wishing she could come back so that we can walk home together like we always did but it never happened. I walked home alone, lonely and sad. Memories of our three months old friendship flooded my head each time I walked home and tears were forced to fall sometimes.

Back to present…

That is how I remember it. Thanks to childhood innocence, I wasn’t depressed for so long even though my academic performance that term was a little below my usual performance and I lost that zeal for school that mummy loved. I still remember her every now and then. Even till this day, the memories flood back sometimes and each time I remember her, I feel happy for the opportunity to have had that kind of friend. Soft spoken and strong, intelligent and wonderful and lest I forget, beautiful. Now, she’s not a major thought as Biola *my girlfriend and maybe my future wife* has stolen my heart but she will always remain in my memories till I die.

She was my first love.


Source: Romance Meets Life


(This short story was first published on Naijastories.com)
(Please do not copy it in any form. Should be reproduced/published only after acknowledging the source)

Have a wondeful weekends.