WE ARE ALL EIGHT YEAR OLDS AT HEART

Wednesday afternoon, the sheers completely forgo their function or maybe the sun is raging out over the El Nino aftermath. One couch sits directly facing the window giving the room a sauna feel. My mother sits directly opposite the television set, gleefully playing her crossword. My nephew joins my mother and me. Takes the tablet lying on the table, (who am I kidding? He grabs it from my hands when I was scrolling down silly Instagram pages) then sits next to me, partially on my hips. I scoot a little bit almost submerging inside the couch then he slides closer.

Quickly, he goes for one of the games featured and becomes blissfully unaware of everything else surrounding him. Norm for eight year olds. I still probe him with level 1 questions which he dismisses rather bashfully maybe because I inquired of the same since he got out of diapers. I soon escalate to level 100, “who do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask in a low tone to give off a sense of intelligence and effect an exaggerated witty vibe. He seems unbothered and continues to play his game which my mother joins in to polish his skills and drop off a few pointers. I then started questioning myself if it was still a level one question and why is it I didn’t ask him to name all the bones in the human body.

I like to think am a Jackie of most trades. If it isn’t for my frequent and expedient boredom shocks, I would probably be a guru somewhere. It would be considered sin if I didn’t add laziness to that category, I mean who likes waking up to do the same thing over and over again? Even Sir Kenyatta takes a ‘few’ trips here and there.

Sometimes I want to become a hero and at other times I want a hero to worship. My ambition and aspirations of youth beat very strongly in my heart and other times shallow almost too shallow that I almost give zero damns of what the future holds. I still battle in finding that which will rekindle and fully illuminate my purpose in this world but I will be damned if I drop the torch and sit in darkness. I may not have full disclosure of who I want to be but I know the woman I want to become.

As expected he didn’t quite get round to my quizzes, he carried on with his game and soon after went on to play with his water gun. The path of self-discovery is rigid, finding one’s merits is easy, it’s to know the vanities that run parallel that is challenging. I soon joined him in playing with his ‘AK-47’ blissfully unaware of what 2016 has in store.