I opened my eyes last Saturday morning to the sight of the morning sun and a slight fog creeping into my bedroom window. The quietness that morning was unusual but the exact peace I needed after a rough week. Then I took a deep breath, and the smell of dry, dusty earth and tingling cool harmattan breeze filled my nose. It was a smell I was familiar with.
A smell that reminded me that it was almost that time of the year when the bells get to jingle and jingle all the way. When I get to pack my back and travel a long distance from the western part of the country down to the eastern part to unite with my parents again. Reminding me how much I had missed family, Reminding me of the so much joy that comes with this time of the year.
"Christmas is coming" I whispered to no one but myself, stretching at the same time in bed with a huge smile on my face and so much joy within.
I have been so occupied with work and making ends meet that I was almost losing track of time and life and what really matters. I comforted myself with the fact that I wasn't guilty of that alone.
You know that feeling that you've just been living for a particular purpose which was to worry about bills and survival. Somehow, It dulls your senses on actually living for yourself, too and doing things that give you joy.
I lay there in bed trying to remember the last time I did something that actually gave me joy, something that I actually loved, or even been with people that gave me joy apart from Ronke, my friend who visited often. But as I thought, my brain was blank. I've been so occupied that I've let these things slip through my fingers like sand.
I sat up and let my bare feet touch the floor, earthing, they called it. I can't specifically tell of its importance, but for me, I know sometimes it made me feel better like I was connecting to Mother Earth.
I said my tiny little prayers and slipped my feet into my fluffy bedroom flip-flops, then I rose from my bed and headed for my kitchen, dragging my oversized nightgown with me. The wave that comes with a good night sleep, still pushing me around.
Lighting up my electric kettle, I poured myself some hot cups of my favourite green tea. Letting each sip hit my tongue so much that it hurt a bit. Reviving my senses, setting me up for the day. Then I pushed open my windows to let the fresh harmattan air and sunshine in. I closed my eyes, inhaled and let them caress my sleepy face
Then I heard the clanging of pots and spoons from the opposite side of my window. It was from Mama Chinedu's kitchen. She was already making breakfast for her family that early in the morning.
I looked over to see her staring and smiling at me.
"Good morning ma," I shouted to her, waving my hands to make sure she noticed I was greeting her.
"Good morning my daughter. How are you?" She replied with a hearty smile.
"I'm fine Ma."
"Can you perceive it?" She asked.
I wondered what she meant. With the intention, she was asking about the food she was cooking, which I thought was a weird question to ask that early in the morning. I played along and replied,
"No Ma, your window is a bit far from here".
She chuckled, "Silly child, I'm not talking about the aroma. I mean can you perceive Christmas coming?" She clarified what she meant. She must have seen me shut my eyes and inhale the harmattan breeze.
I felt a little streak of shame wash over me. But I was glad that someone else could perceive Christmas around the corner.
"Yes, o. I can perceive it," I jumped around childishly.
That was how easy talking to Mama Chinedu was for me. In a state I had no one to run to for motherly advice, she was the only one I could feel comfortable talking to about my problems.
She laughed heartily, revealing her beautiful set of teeth. For a woman her age with two grown adult kids and a teenager, Mama Chinedu didn't look her age. She was still beautiful and had a nice structure, too. I wouldn't lie, I envied her for that.
"Chinedu, my son said the weather dey give am joy" she replied, laughing again. "These children will not kill me with their slang o".
"Same here, Ma" I paused. "But sometimes I feel childish being so happy about Christmas"
"Why?"
"I don't know. I feel I've outgrown being so pumped about Christmas. But I just can't shake off that feeling".
I watched as Mama Chinedu smiled then she replied, "You're not childish, my dear." She said. "The truth is, your joy isn't stemmed because of the weather, or the decorations or the month it is in the calendar. It's is stemmed because of the beautiful memories you've created over the years during this time of the year, Christmas. It could be with the people you love. So whenever you perceive Christmas, you remember them," she explained.
I nodded in agreement. I couldn't deny that she was right. I quickly recalled how I was happy earlier because it was almost that time of the year when I got to travel to reunite with my parents. That stemmed the joy in me for this particular time of the year
It was as if she was reminding me not to let the constant demands of life let the small things that matter slip away from my hands.
"For Chinedu, my son, his joy stems from the foods, drinks and gifts that he gets during this time of the year", she laughed, again revealing her nice dentition.
"Everyone with their memories and joy, I guess", I replied.
"Yes, o", she leaned forward to the window, and in a low tone, she said. "I better go and feed my husband now before he thinks I've chosen you over his stomach", she joked, laughing again.
"Please go o," I laughed too. I couldn't deny it, talking to Mama Chinedu is always a joyful expedition for me.
I watched as she made her way out of her kitchen. Then I turned and walked back into my room. It was time for my Saturday chores.
Glossary:
The weather dey give am joy *the weather is giving him joy