Ngozi and I have been married close to seventeen months now. Yes, a year and five months, I was sure I was correct. Definitely sure….
Yet, I couldn’t help sighing as these months flashed by before my very eyes as I slid back and relaxed in the driver’s seat of the Rover, hoping to ease off the day’s tension.
I could see Ngozi’s radiant face again as we pledged our vows…
so beautiful, promising. It seemed unreal, compared to what I go home to every other night now. Maybe it was the auto accident we had a week after our wedding, which confined Ngozi to a wheelchair – I didn’t suffer a single scratch and I was in the front passenger seat, while she drove – and a lifetime of physiotherapeutic sessions (As it is turning out to be – I’m hopeful though). Maybe it was the way she looked at me sometimes, the way she spoke to me like I wasn’t supposed
to be there.
A noise from behind cleared my clouded thoughts, and I checked my side mirror to see why the red convertible behind me was blaring its horns. Obviously, we were in a traffic jam, and everyone else had
found a way to kill time while they waited. Up ahead, some cars had started moving, so I warmed the engine and was soon speeding closer to my destination.
I slowed at an intersection, and turned right cautiously, as a trailer truck earthquaked past in the opposite direction, leaving behind a huge billboard playing some Valentine ad. Of course, I smiled to myself secretly, festive periods or whatever periods Val could be classified along with had a way of uplifting the atmosphere it
surrounds. Like a melodious cacophony, or a rainbow on a monochromatic day….
I finally got home, parked in the garage and went in. I was surprised at the silence that sashed the house – Ngozi is usually watching cable TV every night when I return. I closed the front door gently, and groped for the light switch as usual. What happened next was intimidating… Few metres away from where I stood, another switch popped instead, and revealed lots of miniature pyramid-shaped jasmine bulbs lined out in a pathlike manner. Roses were everywhere, and a soft ballad slowly crescendoed its way into the sacredness.
” Do you like it?” A voice asked.
Then it paused, “Say something.”
Ngozi expertly wheeled herself to where I was, and took my hands.
They were shaking.
“All these months, since our wedding, I have been angry. At God, at death, at life. I neglected you… I found the gift you left this morning when I woke.”
God, I thought, she was going to cry. Her voice was getting raspy.
“…And I realised, you’re my miracle.”
I felt my bladder sending signals to my brain: Empty contents asap!
” I love you, Idowu. I really do. Thank you.” She cried.
Well, I went on my knees and hugged her.
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