I was three years old when I fell in love for the first time. We had just returned to the village from Zaria. I saw her for the first time and my eyes went straight to her neck, sitting like a nipple of the breast was her Adam’s apple. While she breathes, the air that passes through her throat shoots out the Adam’s apple. It was a fascinating sight to behold. I was burning inside me, as if she was inside me, she looked in my direction and stretched her arms for an embrace. Apart from the warmth of the womb, I never felt so warm like that.
Throughout my teenage years, she was my obsession. I lived forever in her image. If you have seen a moon half month to its expiration, with that sensual beauty and illuminated aura, so was her beauty. She was my fantasy.
We became inseparable, I was more in her company than the begging arms of other beauties. I made her look new with every passing moment. I was a witness to her fading beauty, one day, when I had become a full man to propose to my love of infantile imagination, she breathed her last at the ripe age of 80. That was when I was told, !!!Àye Ójo Ànyi was the mother of my mother, my grandmother…
Alluringly musing
