Thursday Talk Series| Live and Love Your Life By Noah

Holla fellas. It feels good to be back this thursday. I’d give you a high five, but you know that’s not possible. Hope you’ve had an awesome week so far. My biggest takeaway this week about life: We can evade reality, but we cannot evade the consequences of evading reality – Ayn Rand.

I’m beyond excited to have Noah here. I thought this introduction would be my easiest yet but mehn I thought wrong. When I first met Noah years ago in Kaduna, it was the breezy, hello and goodbye kinda meeting. He was the boy next door…very cliché, or so I thought (wrong, again). He’d acknowledge my presence with a smile, a nod, or a few words sometimes. However, there were days when he was withdrawn, I felt like condensed air or a fly on the wall. Because he sings beautifully, I suspect a tune plays in his head that shuts out the world. “Yeah, whatever, I don’t care, ” but I did, a lot more than I cared to admit. Maybe I wore him down with my charming/annoying self, or maybe he and his folks took me on as a charity case (I was the new crazy Lagos girl), but things got better. I’ve gotten to know Noah and it has been precious. He is one of my book/music plugs; we have almost the same taste to my surprise (hooked me up with Tomi Adeyemi, Kevin Kwan, Laini Taylor, The Chainsmokers, Calum Scott, etc, and I shared my pancakes with him). He’s a yogi (the serious ones unlike me), and he grows all kinds of plants (he gave me my first lovely aloe vera bush, Catherina, and still helps me with her because I’m not a good plant mom). He’s diligent, dependable, has a wicked sense of humor (aka bad mouth), and can sing every song that Adele has released. Let’s meet Noah☺️

Q. Can you introduce yourself and what you do?

A. My name is Noah Yari. I am a consultant with an organization that mentors entrepreneurs.

Noah Yari in his traditional attire
Noah Yari

Q. Why do you do your job, and would you rather do something else?

A. I do it because I’ve discovered that Ihave a passion for helping people. I get to meet and interact with such beautiful souls and help them rewrite their stories. It’s very fulfilling work. I love what I do. I wouldn’t change it.

Q. What have you accomplished so far that has made you proud?

A. First of all, I don’t believe that you have to accomplish something grand to be proud of yourself. I would say my biggest accomplishment is overcoming depression, self-doubt and anxiety. I used to be quite a basket-case. LOL

Q. What do you appreciate about yourself and what would you like to CHANGE?

A. What I appreciate most about myself is my will power. I’ve realised that I am my only problem and I am the only solution .

Q. Would you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert and why?

A. I would describe myself as an introvert, mostly because everyone I know says so. I enjoy my own company but I also enjoy the company of others, especially when we are on the same altitude.

Q. If you win a million dollars, what would you do?

A. I’d buy my parents a new house. They deserve that much.

Q. I’ll What do you feel is the difference between living and existing?

A. I always answer this question with that old saying ‘the grass always looks greener on the other side’. I feel people who believe this are those who are just existing and waiting for life to happen to them. I believe that someone who is truly living won’t have the time to compare his ‘grass’ with others because they’ll be too busy watering theirs and making life happen. Don’t wait for life to happen to you, happen to life, and just enjoy the ride, that’s living.

Q. What was the last book you read and what can you say about it?

A. The Girl With The Louding Voice by Abi Daré. It’s a coming of age story about a poor girl with big dreams who refused to be a victim of her circumstances. What I love most about it is that it was written by a Nigerian and set in Nigeria. It was utterly refreshing.

I always answer this question with that old saying ‘the grass always looks greener on the other side’. I feel people who believe this are those who are just existing and waiting for life to happen to them… someone who is truly living won’t have the time to compare his ‘grass’ with others because they’ll be too busy watering theirs and making life happen. Don’t wait for life to happen to you, happen to life, and just enjoy the ride, that’s living.

Noah Yari on Thursday Talk Series

Q. Do you believe aliens exist, if yes, what are they like?

A. I believe aliens exist because the size of the universe is in comprehensively large. It can’t be just us. I don’t know what they’re like but if I were to guess, I’d say they’re not that different from us on the inside. By this I mean they have souls and can experience love, sorrow and pain. I believe they have brains too!

Q. What is that thing that you see as an obstacle which can stop you from having success?

A.The only thing that can stop me from achieving success is not a ‘thing’ really. It’s God. Only the Big Guy/Gal can stop me.

Thank you, Noah, for showing up and I didn’t even have to resort to threats😂 It’s a lazy Thursday guys and I could use a break. If you are still here, thank you so much for reading. Don’t forget to like, share and leave a comment.

You can follow Waking Dreams on Instagram

I promise❤️✌️🏾
  • What’s The Truth?
    Our perception of the truth can be distorted…but we’ll still choose to die on that hill.
  • Left Behind
    The abandoned church stood like a man awaiting trial.
  • How To Live Like A Hero
    And the pressure keeps growing and growing and growing until you feel like you are moments away from exploding.
  • The Story of How I Met Mo-Isu
    The apparition introduced himself as Mo.
  • Saturdays Are For Weddings
    It is an unspoken rule that Saturdays are for weddings in Nigeria.

Thursday Talk Series | Deep Conversations With Jiya


This is for anybody out there who is struggling to meet deadlines and is feeling overwhelmed by life in general. It’s not easy to work on so many projects at the same time without running the risk of neglecting one or two and then feeling like a total loser because of it. I have a lot going on right now guys and I am cutting really close to my deadlines and losing sleep. I have found that if not properly managed it affects my ability to focus and be creative. I try to tell myself that this too shall pass, and I’m working towards creating a more productive space for myself🤞🏾 I’ll share tips/tools that I’m currently utilizing to help step up my working game, but that will be another day.

Let me introduce Jiya, it’s really great to have him here. So Jiya gives off the first impression that he can be easily read but really he’s a lot like Rubik’s Cube, cool and complex. One moment you think you have him all figured out, and then wham! he reveals another side of himself that is totally unexpected. Jiya is also the one person to call if you need to keep the place alive with humor and terrific/deep conversations (obsessed with his voice and for a good reason; he sounds like raw honey and spice😌). He personal exudes self-awareness, and he’s introspective, intense, and very passionate

Q. Can you introduce yourself and what you do?

A. Sure! I’m Daniel Jiya Majin, but I mostly go by Jiya. I’m a Podcaster, Story Writer, and Singer. I love Anime, deep discussions, music, and women.

Daniel Jiya Majin

Q. Why do you do your job, and would you rather do something else?

A. I do my job because it’s what I can do with the least amount of stress for money. I don’t know if it’s fair to say I’d rather do something else. It’s more like I’d rather do a more polished and complete version of what I currently do, that makes more money.

Q. What’s your idea of real success and how can it be achieved?

A. Success to me is being able to live and thrive off doing the things you want to do. The things you really want to do. I want to have interesting and deep conversations with people. I want to write compelling and heart-felt stories that touch people. I want to stir hearts with my voice, If I can ever make a living from doing these things, I win. That’s a success.

Q. What do you appreciate about yourself and what would you like to change?

A. I appreciate that I’m not afraid to look inward to see what’s wrong. I appreciate that I have a kind heart even though I feel like it makes me weak. I appreciate that I’m somewhat intelligent. I appreciate my fantastic physical frame. I wish I could change my work ethic. I wish I could change my inability to handle failure properly. I wish I could change my emotional insecurities. I wish I was more driven and motivated.

Q. If you could, what’s the one thing you’d change about the world?

A. The lack of understanding between people. It’s crazy how many misunderstandings and a lack of connection set us back as a people.

Q. What do you perceive your biggest losses are, financially or people?

A. I actually think they’re more personal, but I’ll put down my desire to flog myself. Definitely financial. I’m actually blessed to still be surrounded by so many wonderful people.

Q. What kind of people do you allow into your circle?

A. People who show an interest in me, people who listen and think, and most importantly, people I like.

Q. If money was not relevant, what would you do all day?

A. Sing, play competitive video games, exercise, smoke weed with my friends, and talk about our experiences.

Q. What superpowers would you like to have and why?

A. Reading minds. Cuz control over the heart and mind is the ultimate power.


Success to me is being able to live and thrive off doing the things you want to do. The things you really want to do….have interesting and deep conversations…write heart felt stories that touch people…stir hearts with my voice, If I can ever make a life from doing these things, I win. That’s success.

Q. What’s the one thing you think that should be taught in school about choosing a career that isn’t?

A. That it’s okay to figure out what you want as you go along. A lot of the time we get put in boxes yeah? Then we’re constantly told “think out of the box”. But they never teach you how.

Thank you Jiya for the interview and to everyone reading, hope you have a fabulous Thursday.

Follow Jiya



Listen to Podcast

Rubik’s Cube
Photo credit: Pexel
A picture I took today
Currently reading
  • What’s The Truth?
    Our perception of the truth can be distorted…but we’ll still choose to die on that hill.
  • Left Behind
    The abandoned church stood like a man awaiting trial.
  • How To Live Like A Hero
    And the pressure keeps growing and growing and growing until you feel like you are moments away from exploding.
  • The Story of How I Met Mo-Isu
    The apparition introduced himself as Mo.
  • Saturdays Are For Weddings
    It is an unspoken rule that Saturdays are for weddings in Nigeria.

How I Get Over Melancholy


To describe how I’ve been the last few hours before I decided to write this post – a wilted flower. Dry and lackluster. I’ve tried to focus but find myself spacing out – my mails must be a mess because I’ve tried but failed to sort them out. I am detached from the present and it doesn’t sit well with me. Still, I can’t put a finger on why I’m melancholic (sad but thoughtful).

My thoughts are all over the place – I sincerely blame the weather.

Figured I should get things off my chest. The truth being if I don’t manage this, it could easily get worse and this Alice is not falling down that rabbit hole. I know to take it easy with myself – this too shall pass – you ken that mantra. So how do I get over melancholy?

Here are things that I have tried before:

Read A Book

Burying myself in a book is yet another escapism for me, but balk at the idea of trying to get away from my present meh-lancholic reality. I could either pick up from where I left off in Stephen King – On Writing: A Memoir Of the Craft, or cuddle with my newest book Kresley Cole – The Player (The Game Maker Series). Not really a tough choice to make I must confess. When I read I am no longer burdened by the particulars of my existence.

Stream Music

Even though I haven’t been able to make a playlist in a while, most times I stream songs at random. To get my mind off things I’d probably go for Julia Michael’s first studio album – Not In A Chronological Order. I like the title and love the songs even more especially the track, Little Did I Know. Not sure listening to sappy songs, will help improve my mood.

Binge on Food

My mouth is watering at this prospect, eager to get on with the business of chewing and saying farewell to melancholy. Eating is a pleasure. Good food can curl your toes and leave you full and satisfied. That is why I know to be wary of it. Pigging out can only give me temporal respite and leave behind it’s own issues.

Get Some Work Done

Pooh Pooh! My final answer is no. The odds that working would drive me off the edge is feasible.


I don’t really like this particular activity outside its biological function. (Some people love to sleep, long past what their body requires). I penny pinch the hours in a day I give to sleep. Lately it has been a different story with me looking for opportunities to nod off. I’m sure being stressed out often has been the main culprit but lately I am finding myself abed at odd hours and not doing any other activity…just sleeping. I’m as shocked as you are. Could be another escapist route or I’ve caught a sleep bug or something.

Watch a Movie

Movie and popcorn sounds like the fun thing to do, except sometimes I’m not in the mood for movie anything. The last movie I watched was a K-Drama series, Penthouse: War In House, and it has everything I love about drama. Still rocking from the thrill I got from watching Season 1 & 2 and waiting impatiently for Season 3. I’m am so not over it. I could be tempted still by Cruella, because Emma Stone is such a delight to watch. I’ll keep my options open just in case.

I’m going to give myself some time to decide what to do. Good news is I feel a little better writing/talking about it. I think I should consider getting to the root of what set me off. I’m definitely going to do it and a lot more to shake off the doom and gloom. Fancy something has got to work.

Until next time!


adj. /unenthusiastic and wistful/

I feel meh-lancholic tonight.

Rigozo’s Dictionary

To Be Perfect


“Hurry up! We are going to be late.” My father shouted.

My father is a war veteran and he hates slothfulness of any kind. As his daughter, he expects nothing less than perfection from me.

My lips curl in a lopsided grin as I view the mess of makeup and lotions that’s the top of my dressing table. The oval-shaped mirror in its antique frame shows the rest of my bedroom which looks like a beast did a thorough job ransacking most of it. I mean look at my bed, my wardrobe – what’s left of it is everywhere. I spy a shoe hanging off the lamp.

“How did that happen?” I wonder.

My books are resting on every available surface, and my walls are papered with pictures, post-it notes, and album arts. The only space untouched by this madness is my desk which I like to leave uncluttered.

I’m petrified at the thought of cleaning up the place for fear of what I’ll find in my graveyard of festering laundry. It’s funny that I draw a line at littering trash; I cannot stand it. My friends think I’m weird.

My father will pop a vein if he comes into my room, although I find it unlikely. I stopped everyone from entering without permission after my sixteenth birthday, even the cleaners. When you have things to hide it’s better to take measures to not get caught. I’ll get to cleaning as soon as I’m back from this trip; if I come back.

I hear my parents talking.

“What is she still doing?

O bu gini? What is it?

My dad yells, “Young lady you better not make me come up there. The flight is for 8:00 am you know this.”

“Stop shouting my love, remember you have to watch your blood pressure!” I hear my mother say.

Their voices float up easily to my room at the top of the stairs.

“Obim! My heart! This your daughter will be the death of me. How much more time will she spend grooming herself when the entire town can bear witness that it makes no difference. She’s the most beautiful girl as far as the eyes can see, this makeup of a thing is all nonsense, and if she doesn’t get her act together…”

I can’t stop myself from snorting as I listen. The conversation reeks like moldy cheese. It’s the same thing over and over again, although not so far from the truth.

I do spend an inordinate amount of time dressing up; talking to myself once again to join the society and act the part of a young socialite that has everything going for her – the envy of her peers; trying to convince myself that my pain is the anchor from which I derive strength.

I’m beautiful – I say this with the conviction of one who has spent her entire life hearing it everywhere she goes. I know the bit about God creating us all beautiful and ‘in his own image’, but that ship doesn’t sail in my house. My parents believe that they played the most important part, concluding that there is a combination of their genes and a bit of oomph did the job.

You should see how they show me off in public, after which they pat their back for having the wisdom to make me a lovely little thing. A story for another day.

I quickly cram my essentials – phone, notepad, current book, powder, lipstick, keychain, and wallet into my purse, and peer into the mirror for the last time. Long, thick lashes adorn brown round eyes, hooded from years of trying to hide; if the eyes are the windows to the soul, I have a ‘no peeking’ policy. My nose reclines with an arrogant air like a peer of the realm, so I’ve heard. The lips are prone to frowns than smiles and I practice smiling for a few seconds; it is less like a sneer if I throw my head back. I run my fingers through my black hair but they get stuck in my tight kinky curls that contrast my clear fair skin. I look closer hoping to see what everybody else sees and more importantly what they fail to see.

My parents wanted a male child for a long time in their childless marriage; instead, my sweet behind popped out the first time my mother carried a child to term. Notwithstanding they named me Nkiruka – tomorrow is greater than today. Ha! How obvious can they be that I wasn’t enough? Unfortunately, I am the only child my mother was able to carry to term.

It’s a testament to my father’s love for my mother that he didn’t take another wife. I breathe deeply and leave the room, it will be a while before I come back here again. I take my time going down the stairs. There’s this song playing in my head; it’s Louis Armstrong’s/ When you are smiling. I focus on it, let it wash over me and that elusive smile finally emerges. My friend Dele sent it to me a while back; he shares my love for jazz. What would become of me without music?

“I’m here” I announce as I enter the sitting room. My mother shoots lasers out of her eyes and snaps at me. When she’s really upset but trying not to show it she gets formal like a flight attendant.

“You are advised to put an end to this childish behavior of yours. Must you always upset your father and me at every given opportunity? You were given a two weeks’ notice for a reason. This is a joint family vacation with your father’s business partners, do I have to remind you how important it is that you do not embarrass us in any way?” She says in her best air hostess voice.

“I’m your bloody daughter and not some vermin you have to tolerate, ” I yell in my head.

Outside I stare blankly at them; two peas in a pod, always to be found draped on each other’s arms. Well, whenever I’m found in the picture, it’s always as an afterthought or a strategic move to show off my family’s wealth and beauty. As I look at their drawn faces I acknowledge that they too are not without flaws, even as I admit that imperfections are not excuses to cling to.

When I do irrational things or refuse change even as it crosses my path, I like to think it’s on me. I may move past my flaws or they may never go away, so what? Where does it leave me? I observe the two people that gave me life until I hold their gazes.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been going through a lot lately” I apologize.

I see that they expect more but I wait for them to say something.

“If that is all let us get going,” my father’s irritation was obvious.

My hands shake, but I continue “I won’t be coming with you; I need to take time to figure things out on my own. I’m not sure for how long I’ll be gone; I’ll keep an eye in touch. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

I turn to leave. Mother moves to stop me and I let her.

“Nkiruka, don’t do anything stupid,” she says sharply.

I was ten when we went to a party in the neighboring town with quite a several people from our town coming along. Our town council arranged buses to convey us but my parents and I went along in our car. The party was choked full with kids high on sugar, teenagers mingling and getting into mischiefs, adults juggling trying to have a good time with trying to stop the kids from trampling everything in sight. The music was loud, the food was plenty and I spent the entire day with everyone but my parents which sucked.

After trying but failing to get their attention, I ran off to sulk in one of the rides set to entertain the kids. I was always doing things like that when I was little – attention deprived as I was – me as my only companion.

After playing for some time I found a secluded spot and fell asleep from exhaustion; by the time I woke up the party was over and the place was shut down for the day. My throat turned raw crying and screaming for my parents to come to take me back home, “I’ll be good, I promise.” I thought they had left me behind on purpose. I found out later that they only noticed my absence the next morning; they had assumed I hitched a ride back with the rest of the town folks and slept over at a friend’s place the previous night. Did I mention I was ten? When nobody brought me home by noon my mother started to panic.

After a futile search all over town, someone suggested that they head back to the place where the party was held. I was dehydrated and scared to an inch of my life when they finally came back to pick me up. Because the authorities and press were involved my parents were furious at me for a long time. Till today I’m deathly afraid of being alone in the dark.

Always I’ve struggled to be the perfect daughter, the poster child for the perfect family. It started with churning out good grades and conducting myself with grace and poise. I was quite popular. When that wasn’t enough I became the poster child for a dysfunctional home; burning down my car in a drunken fit is my worst yet. I’ve despised the imperfections that come naturally to me, written on the tapestry of my being. It has taken me years to get to where I am right now; a place of acceptance.

Maybe things do not need to have structure, maybe chaos is order and broken does not necessarily equal useless, maybe nothing makes sense, maybe deep down I’m still a little kid craving attention. I think she realizes something in the way I lean away from her touch and her eyes shines as she steps aside. I have so much I want to say, so much to ask. What was I expecting? An apology? Do they care if I go or stay? Is there a way for us to work things out? Do they love me? Do I love them? I don’t know if now is the right time to go over everything.

I watch as my father turns to tattoo her, how they both reach for each other at the same time and I’ve never felt more alone than as I did at this moment. If I find love like theirs will this cycle repeat itself? I force my legs to move. I’m outside. My bags are already in the car. I’m leaving. The sadness still stays but already I feel a rightness swirling and replacing the hurt. I know a few things about myself but I want to learn more; to grow; to become. The time has come to change my perspective of my name – Nkiruka, tomorrow is greater than today – no more will I let my past define me. I’ll chase this truth like the day chases the night until at last, I live it always and forever.

I’m okay with not being perfect
‘Cause that’s perfect to me
– Anne Marie

Photo credit: Pinterest

Chasing Happiness


My eyes sting, if I don’t stop moving I’ll unleash a flood. In other news, I don’t bloody care. I squeeze them shut tightly and let my chest expand with deep breaths. This thing happening to me, well, describing it is beyond words.

My heels refuse to touch the floor as I choose instead to bounce on the balls of my feet. I am a ballerina pirouetting across the room. My limbs are out of control and fly unmolested. I suspect that my hips are gyrating or rebelling by doing the opposite. I spin around until everything blurs. Then a scream escapes from my lips without any warning. It rings like bells, sweet like dark chocolate, and bright as a summer day. I stop spinning and place a hand on my racing heart, willing it to return to normal. My lips refuse to take their proper form but remain stretched from ear to ear.

I look up to the ceiling until my vision settles. The whole room is thrumming, the walls vibrate to the music; colors burst out in a riot even as the air shimmers.

I don’t always feel this way. Sometimes my heart races for a different reason. I’ll find myself curled up like a fetus in the womb, the cold would rise from my bones and a roar of turbulent waves will fill my ears.

I turn up the music louder and the alte highlife sounds have me moving like a penguin. My voice strains to hit all the right notes without success and I make a mess of the lyrics. I try out the zanku dance and throw in dabs for good measure. The truth is I’m a terrible dancer.

The other day I was with my friends. I remember fondly that we said and did tons of fun, important bonding stuff that I cannot fully recall. Still, I can confess that there were no dragons in my tummy, no crippling doubts about being loved and accepted, and no fear for what the next moment would bring. My heart was swollen with appreciation because I belonged and was loved simply for existing.

There was another time at work when we were focused on our individual tasks. Suddenly I noticed a lull in the usual office din – phones ringing, voices trying to drown out each other, keyboards going tap-tap-tap, slurping of drinks, and feet rushing in every direction. As I looked around, I felt my skin tingling as if the universe itself was watching and participating in the stillness. I couldn’t bear to ruin the mood by calling the attention of the others to it. So I sat there, feasting on the view and appreciating a moment that I would in later years regurgitate time and time again.

Those are the kind of days that I look forward to. When I’m alive and aware, not stuck in my head challenging every decision that I take or missing out on things because I’m too scared to try, and too scared to live.

I walk into the kitchen still bobbing like a bottle in a pond. Where’s the knife? I wonder. I search for a little while and eventually I find it at the bottom of the dirty pile of dishes stacked in the sink. Gross! I wash it clean. It is new, shiny, and sharp.

The intro of Fireboy DML’s – Gbas Gbos rents the air and I nearly drop the knife on my foot out of excitement. This is not how I had planned for this to end.

I place the knife carefully on the counter and reach for the pen and paper I’d brought into the kitchen earlier in the day. I breathe deeply, gather my thoughts, and begin to write. I make sure to keep my writing bold and legible.

I straighten up after I’m done and set the paper aside. As I start to reach for the knife, the kettle whistles, right on cue. Humming, I move over to the stove to turn it off. In a moment I take a sip from my steaming cup of tea. I add a generous amount of lemon juice and stir it in.

I grab the knife in one hand and stretch out my other hand all the while thinking if I should make a small cut or a big cut. Just as the knife is about to make the cut, the doorbell rings.

I place the tea on the kitchen counter and reach for the knife again. I can’t put it off any longer or I’ll lose my nerve. I’ve not come this far to turn back.

This life shoves a variety of flavors at you at every turn. Not every one of them is agreeable to your taste. Dead is a man that misses out on the flavors. I’m not dead – yet.

No! No! No!

“Uju! Uju! I’m home. Where are you this woman?” I hear my sister call from the hallway.

I was so close. So close. I hear footsteps behind me and feel beads of sweat run down my face.

“Uju o! Babe how far? You didn’t hear me calling your name? Obviously, you can’t with all this racket going on.”

I turn around as Amaka moves into the kitchen in that easy way of hers like she’s floating. She turns off the music and I feel trapped. I still can’t believe I didn’t do it. It’s too late now.

Amaka eyes me suspiciously as my silence stretches. I try to hide the knife that is still in my hand but the movement catches her eyes.

“What are you doing with a knife, Uju?” She asks suspiciously.

“Nothing” I quickly retort.

She eyes me some more, “You weren’t trying to…” She trails off.

A nervous laugh bubbles out of my mouth and my eyes dart to the side to avoid her gaze.

I hear her gasps loudly and I swiftly turn my head to look at her. She was looking past my shoulder. How did she get so close? She can see the note I left on the counter. Oh no!.

“It’s not what you think,” I say. I drop the knife and edge towards the door.

The hurt in her eyes pins me just as I’m about to make my sweet escape.

“Uju why?” She asks as she picks up the paper.

I cringe when she starts to read it out loud.

“Dear Amaka, I hope you’ll find a place in your heart to forgive me. Love, Uju.” She crumples up the paper and throws it at me.

“Where did you think you’d have ended up if you had done it? I can’t believe this! I can’t believe you would do this. You know how much I worked and yet you didn’t think twice before trying to do it again. Amaka, why are you so ungrateful? Why do you think about only yourself? What would I have told the rest of the family when they ask me what happened to….”

“I’m sorry, Uju.” I wring my fingers.

“Are you sorry? Are you? Because that was what you said the last time.”

I see red spots appear on her beautiful cheeks. She must wish to throw the knife at me because her eyes focuses on it.

“The cake is for everybody!” she yells. “How e take dey do you ehn! You alone ate all the cake the last time and now, you can’t even wait for tomorrow when the rest of the family arrives before gobbling this one up?”

I pout and start to grumble, “Amaka it’s all your fault for baking cakes that are divine.”

Amaka launches herself at me intent on wreaking havoc on my person, and I run out of the kitchen laughing hard.

“I’ll kill you today,” she screams.

I spend the rest of the day with warmth in my chest, food in my tum-tum, and light in my eyes, that is after Amaka stopped trying to kill me. I understand that I can only live one day at a time, and I have learned to treasure days like this – the happy days.

I put the music back on and this time Amaka joins me to groove. She’s worse than I am at dancing. I tell her this and earn myself a slap for my trouble.

Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment below.

Photo credit: Pinterest

Read more: Thursday Talk Series

Chasing happiness has a Christmas card
I made a Christmas Card – Deck the Cat