Reminiscing Youth

The streets were moist with dew in the early mornings, and the air was fresh. It was in December when in other parts of the world cold was a welcomed change and young girls wore colourful mittens and scarves, but not in my hometown. Snow never visited, and the cold in winter was only felt in humming air conditioners at well ventilated offices or in big malls in the cities, but it was as artificial as it was. As artificial as the cotton snow we used to decorate on Christmas trees, to create the illusion we never had, to celebrate the holiday season.
I was then a ten year old boy in shorts and shirt walking in this moist street to buy bread at the corner shop. It was my task, my contribution to a family of eight. Every morning I walked this street, never ever having the inkling of having the best of my days, when luck struck once in a lifetime. My father just had a bad week having been fired from his job, with no employment benefits or any other form of support from the state. In short, we had to scrimp and live with whatever means we could hang on to. When I looked far away, I knew I could make out that there was something odd in the middle of the road. When I came near I stopped and stooped to pick it up.
When I reached home my father said I was an angel. My mother said no, I met an angel. It was still far from Christmas but the green buck I saw saved them from headache, at least to tide them over for a few days until my father could find another job, for which he did find.


What is your opinion?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s