Alex, ‘I saw a grasshopper today’. It’s funny how something so insignificant can trigger the fondest memories. I remember the first time we caught that tricky insect right outside the kitchen. Do you remember what you told me? You had a serious look on your face when you said, “Do you know some people die and come back as insects or even as animals? It’s called reincarnation”.
You’ve always been good with big words, even at the age of 10. Mum thought you’ll go crazy someday from reading too much. I believed everything you said so much that I told Aunt Ruth in Sunday school that when we die, we don’t go to heaven, we become grasshoppers. In my ten-year-old mind, I was so wise. You can imagine my surprise when I was summoned to the pastor’s office to be given a sermon on heaven and hell. Quite a frightening experience for a child.
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I remember the day we decided to prank your mother, or rather you decided and I agreed to play along as usual. To this day, I vividly recall the look on her face when you told her you got me pregnant. It was like she managed to combine all the facial expressions in this world into one look. That’s how I remember her face even in my subconscious mind. It’s a thing of wonder when these days I see parents allowing their kids to be friends with whomever they wished. My mother was always against the idea of me being close friends with a boy (still is).
Harmattan is here and Maiduguri is as foggy as ever, forcing people to mostly stay indoors. Do you know children are still told the ghost of harmattan story? My nephew cried the whole night yesterday after Pops told him the story.
I bumped into Rose the other day; she’s all grown up now. Believe it or not, she had to introduce herself before I could recognise her. It was hard imagining her as the snotty girl that followed you around everywhere. I still have the love note she wrote you when we were in primary 4. Just looking at it makes me smile.
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It’s quite unfortunate how we waste opportunities when we have them. I can’t believe I didn’t say all these things to you. I have some news for you at least. Remember Emmanuel the tall boy from when we were in Children’s church? Well, he asked me to marry him and I said yes, I know it’s kind of sudden but life is too short to worry and wait for certainty. Aren’t you the one that always said, “When faced with two options, always choose the endearing one”? I just wish you were here to laugh with me.
The last time you were here, I promised we would talk when you got back, and we even picked out a spot. Our old ugly tree. The ugly tree is blooming. I always thought it was strange because it blooms in season and out of season. It holds all the memories that are dear to me. Remember how you gave me my first kiss under that tree when we watched Jesse’s girl? And when we told each other stories about nothing for hours. Remember the time Sarah broke your heart and we tasted booze for the first time together still under that tree?
It’s little wonder that I insisted you be laid to rest there much to the disdain of your mother but I finally won her over and I’m sure you appreciate the humour in it all. Even though I couldn’t get myself to go to the funeral. My parents kept insisting that it would give me closure, little did they know it was the last thing I needed. Funerals feel so final, and I am not ready for that. People talk of physical pain as the ultimate kind of pain but I don’t think they’ve gone through this pain. When you feel as if your heart is being ripped out of your chest while you stand helpless. And no, there is no remedy for this kind of pain.
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You do know I love you and there’s nothing you can do about it. Get the pun? I guess one day I would stare death in the face and finally get to ask why it took you from me so suddenly before I could get a chance to tell you how I felt when I dropped you at the bus stop that day. Sleep well my Alex.
P.S: I’m saving a spot beside you. Our ugly tree reunion awaits us.
This Creative Nonfiction was published in the October 2022 edition of the WSA magazine.
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