I’d choose you again

 

They say beautiful things don’t ask for attention but you asked me for my name.

 

 

A while ago, someone asked one of those questions that has you unearthing your entire existence. You know those questions that feel like an edible taking its time to settle, or a slow drag of snuff – you hear it, you pause, shake your head, then you sit back because suddenly, the weight of realization unfolds itself like wrapped moi-moi waiting to be accompanied by ridiculously tender Agege bread. “What is your biggest achievement?” she quizzed, and for a minute, all 20+ years of my non-genZ life flashed by in a few seconds like a generator that would flicker light before it died abruptly. Beyond all the titles, professional qualifications, bodies of work, degrees of erudite study, earthly possessions, and lives I’d like to think I have colored in some way; beyond who I was, am, and would ever be, I said you. Yes, you. ❤️🥺

 

“Being my father’s son”, I responded.

 

You see, you were home. A roof over my head, and come rain, sunshine, thunderstorm, or winter (while the climate does not permit, some days felt like it), you felt like warmth. If I were to do it all over, I’d say yes. I’d drop to my knees and say yes. No theatrics, no tears, no drama, just “yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss”, a long-knowing-unending Y-E-S. I’d say yes because where else would I rather be, who else would I be with?

 

When I find the love of my life, the iyawo who has since ateguned (aired) my love letter, and when we decide to bring a little human or humans into the world, I hope I’d be warm, gentle, tender, and be you. I hope I look at them with eyes that read “You are magic!” like yours did. I hope they inherit the best parts of us. The version that has healed from the traumas tucked away in the throat of our inner child. The version that is present, and a present that keeps giving. I hope we give them befitting names that firmly hold the crowns on their head(s) in place. Names that carry a reminder of their fathers and fathers’ fathers; names that carry a silent summary of the beauty that they are and was before them. A name that every time they mouth, there is a loudness of a knowing voice and a familiar hand holding them.

 

I lost you. But I’d do it all over again with you.

 

Not a day goes by that I do not think of what could have been – the long walks, memories, stories, belly-filled laughter, hand-holding, comfortable silence, tenderness, and all the storms we would have weathered together.

 

In all of it, I hope you’ll choose me again like you once did.

 

My soul made contact with you, and it hasn’t stopped dialing. You are an unending playlist, my answered prayer, and a miracle that imprinted its two feet on my soul.

 

I am tired, and on most days, I want it to end, but I somehow go again. I do, not just because I want to, but because I remember the meaning of my name, and that each day brings me closer to you. So while I’m at it, I collect stories I’d share with you.

 

In all of it, I hope you’ll choose me again like you once did.

 

                                               B.