I miss the days where I didn’t have to pay for my delinquencies because my cradle fingers were ignorant to the consequences of what they were committing
I long for those days I recklessly ran beneath the rain like Adam before the apple
Taking no cognizance of my being I miss freedom
I miss internal liberty
Where my mind was as pure as the sunny sky
And I didn’t have to turn my eyes to stare twice at her backside because I never really knew what a backside meant
I miss sleepy nights
Where I didn’t have to stay awake thinking of the future because I was getting close to my grave with the silent alarm of sunrise and set
I miss the children Sunday school
Where we were given snacks and told beautiful bible stories that made Christianity as easy as breathing
I miss the days where I didn’t have to think for myself
I miss mum’s tender harmless hands which cuddled and wrapped me like a blanket with a god morning kiss on my forehead
I miss dad’s company
And it’s funny how they’ve drastically changed to familiar strangers
It seems like that special love for me was sent on exile
And all I hear now is nothing but complaints about my lack of “common sense”
I miss childhood friends
Back when ego and pride were words the brains of our bodies were yet to learn
The days I saw long strokes of red pen paddled across the Atlantic of my exercise book
And when the teacher would sketch my face on it should in case I failed
I miss playing in the sand
Building houses on the mud with my feet as foundation
I miss enriched custard and not 3 sugar cubes pap I take now in the name of recession
I miss family outings
Days we spent harmonious hours in the homes of family friends, brothers and cousins never wanting to go back home because we bonded and blended perfectly like A and B (Akara and Bread)
I miss Ijeoma
The young gold colored girl I always wanted to play with along the stairs
I miss late night stories with the half moon starring at us miles away from the slumbering clouds
Always told about the cunny nature of the tortoise accompanied by the 5,000 versions of why he has a broken shell as roof over him
I miss the days of creativity
Where I made canoes, belts, phones, planes, wristwatches and football teams with nothing but sheets of paper
The days we sucked out juice from skins of flowers
I miss the days we made fans from mango leaves
The days of kites and coconut biscuits
I miss the days I was always told of how long headed I was by my elder sisters
The days of grasshoppers and dragonflies
The days of self-made ankle socks and the undying urge for beards
The days I never had to do wash and wear
The days I feared to sleep alone because of miss coy
I miss the days of kpof-kpof
I miss granny’s arms, the only true defense whenever Dad and Mum got mad at me
I miss okim osabor
I miss the days of love letters
The days I always felt lit like Christmas lights whenever our eyes exchanged pleasantries
#BRINGBACKTHEJUVENILE
By _iamscripted
I am Ofem Ubi
A student of mass communication
Lover of art, good music, poetry, photography
Christian by birth and till death
This is my blog
