The Prisoners Of My Mind

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Right in the hollow of my mind, where the darkness loomed a prison was built. Its purpose was to capture and torture. In this prison, prisoners were in chains and their chance of escape was slim.

The majority of the inmates had served their time and walked to freedom through the open gate. Others were not so lucky, they remain locked up, they served time with no numbers.

Every time my feeling was touched, an arrest took place. I played a victim card. I was the one who hurt the most. The one whose right was infringed. The victim whose wound never healed. However, the space of this prison was minute, it wasn’t big enough for the number of daily arrests.

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The Knots in my Heart.

Of all the love stories I have read and heard, my grandmother’s love story stands out tall above the rest. My grandfather was a merchant who traveled far and wide with his bicycle. As a result, his trade took him to a tiny hamlet where my grandmother was born and raised.

At this time, there were many girls of marriageable ages in the hamlet. Men travelled from neighbouring towns and villages to seek their hands in marriage.

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My Preteen Standoffishness

I had my little girl when I was in my early 30s. A year and a few days after my first wedding anniversary. For me, it was love before sight. I was ready to be a mum before she came along, I loved being around kids and she fitted in snugly for me.

It was easy when she arrived, though, we struggled financially, but, she was one of those kids who are satisfied with little. The difficulty we were in was not accentuated by her needs. She fed well and was full of life, all she ever wanted was being around her family.

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