There was a neighbor friend of mine. Her name is Oluwatosin.
If you knew her before everything happened, you would understand why what happened felt like the universe made a terrible mistake.
She was the only child of her parent who poured everything into one daughter. Her parents did not wait for her to ask. They anticipated. Love was not something Oluwatosin searched for in that house. It was the air itself.
Then she went to a party her friends invited her to. Friends who smiled in the light and made decisions in the dark on her behalf. They drugged her. A man with no conscience took advantage of her while she could not protect herself.
When she realized she was pregnant she told her boyfriend. He left immediately. So Oluwatosin sat alone with a secret too heavy for one person and a shame that was never hers to carry.
She could not tell her parents. Not because they were wicked. Because she loved them too much.
She disappeared one night without a word.
Her parents aged in real time. Her father sat with grief pulling his shoulders forward. Her mother moved through the house like someone searching every room and never finding what they needed.
My parents visited daily, speaking words of affirmation into a situation that looked hopeless. My mother would come home and cry quietly in the kitchen thinking nobody heard.
I heard her.
I made a promise to her father. I told him I would find her and bring her home.
It took weeks through a chain of friends before I found where she was staying.
I woke up one faithful morning, went to the nearest restaurant, ordered her favorite food and went to her door.
When she opened it and saw me she collapsed into me and cried from somewhere so deep. She told me she had not eaten anything real in two weeks. Just junk. Just surviving without living. Alone with her shame in a small room while her parents were dying slowly one street away.
I gave her simple reasons to come home. No blames. Just truth.
She packed her things.
When we reached her house I knocked.
Her mother opened the door and saw her daughter and made a sound I will carry for the rest of my life. Not words. Just a mother's heart restarting.
Her father looked up and tears rolled down his face. He shook my hand and called me his hero.
Nobody asked Oluwatosin anything that night. They surrounded her with love because she was home and that was the only thing that mattered.
Weeks later at a dinner her mother gently asked what happened.
Oluwatosin told everything. The drink. The man. What her friends did. What was taken from her.
We got every friend arrested. The man was charged and sentenced to twenty two years.
Three months after delivery Oluwatosin lost the baby. Her parents held her through that too...
There's a reason I wrote this story on Twitter. And the reason is;
To every young girl. What happened to Oluwatosin was never her fault. You are not what was done to you. Go home. Your parents would rather have you broken and present than perfect and missing.
To every parent. Build a home where your children can bring their worst news and still feel safe.
To every friend. Show up in person. With food if possible. A moment of genuine presence can pull someone back from an edge you did not know they were standing on.
To everyone. Kindness is not weakness. Love shown in inconvenient moments is the most powerful force any human can deploy.
Be the person who knocks.
It saves lives.
My father married a single mom with a 7 year old son. At first , everything was moving fine. Then my dad had, me and my younger sister. He discovered that my mom loved my half brother more. We grew up together. Dad built a house and bought a car. He was doing well for himself. He set up a business for mom where she sold alcohol on wholesale. Most fights my parents had were because of him. Dad sponsored our education. After some time, his health began to fail him. My dad called his kinsmen and told them never to allow his step son to see his corpse when he takes his last breath. Dad passed on and mom and my half brother became a thorn in my flesh. He fought me and cut my stomach open with a knife. It was multiple stabs with deep cuts Neighbours rushed me to the hospital while he escaped. My mom claimed she didn't know his whereabouts. I was taken into the theater for surgery. I spent a few weeks at the hospital before I was discharged. The Doctor warned me sternly not to exceed a certain quantity of meals for the rest of my life no matter how hungry I am. Dad joined his ancestors and his kinsmen never allowed his step son to see his corpse. Mom began another battle. She claimed to have contributed to the house Dad built. That my half brother must keep the documents and have the building as his first son ( adopted). I took the documents to a family friend because Dad handed them over to me before he died. It was kept there safely for several months. Mom chose to leave her marriage. I got married and had three lovely children (two boys and a girl). Mom never saw my wife and children as part of her. After a little unrest in the state, I sold the house, relocated with my family to my hometown. I got another building and started a small transport business. My three children are graduates and trying to be on their own. My story should serve as a lesson to any man marrying a single mother with a son. If you choose to adopt him as yours, do well to spell out things. Women hardly forget their first offspring from another man even when they are legally married to another man. - ANONYMOUS.
I am blessed
I attract wealth from all directions
I have unlocked the secrets of wealth and i am a conduit of wealth transformation
I have achieved everything i set my mind to do
For i am strong, my mind is clear and i move with no fear
🦅🙏🏾