My younger self sat beside me on the bus today. It was dark and the market women at Ketu wouldn't stop enticing potential customers with their loud voices. The bus was dimly lit and I was alone with my thoughts.
This young boy got on the bus and scanned the bus for an empty seat. There were many, but he sat beside me. He smelled exactly like me. He reeked of innocence, it was almost palpable. I mustn't lie, I felt uncomfortable at first. But then I wasn't.
I felt uncomfortable because I thought I had let him down. At this age, we'd agreed to have married and retired to a little country home in a foreign land. Where no one knows who we are. But there we were; on the bus. Staring at each other and wondering where things went wrong.
He asked about dad and mum, and I told him they were fine. He asked about grandma and grandpa. I told him grandma is fine but grandpa no longer exist in this realm. This kid didn't flinch. He knew grandpa lived his best life.
Then came the moment I feared. He asked of Auntie Kikelomo. I stared blankly; searching for words. I couldn't come up with anything so I told him plainly. She died. And he broke down in my arms. I know. I felt this pain too. We felt this pain.
After a while, I patted his back. I told him we became an Architect. Just like we dreamt. I told him Aunite Kike would be proud of the man we've become. And he smiled. I remember this smile. We finally reached our destination and we parted ways. He's there somewhere in the world and I know we'll meet again.