NYU
Mrs Abayomi is the guidance and conselling teacher of Prestige high school . Every student get to be conselled twice every month and today was my turn , i hard skipped her class for two months already and recieved the last warning last week , trying to run again would definately get me purnished so i had no choice than to sit awkwardly in this neatly kept office with this old woman who thinks she can solve my problem.
“ Mrs Abayomi , its actually -“
She cuts in “Mali , you have a beautiful voice but you never sang , you loved dancing but you never danced , you loved basketball but you never played, you have passion for being a guitarlist but you gave it up. The only thing you care to do well is just passing your exams. Thats probably why you have no happy moments to share , young lady” she looked at me pitifully.
“Ma , the only reason my father still pays the fees is not the music or the dance or basketball or the guitar. Its my report sheet ma “. After hearing those words ,she look at me amusingly and that became my last day in the guidance and conselling office till i graduated
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I don’t know when or how or with whom but i believe i’ll be happy again just like i was with Oba . Nevertheless , right now, i’m in so much pain , i’ve been held captive by my own memories so i kept living every single day in them . I miss him so much i felt like a part of my heart was taken away with him when he left . I just wanted to see him again , just once at least.
*************** FOUR YEARS LATER************
“New york was an amazing city “ I thought to myself. No matter how long i spend here i dont think i can sieze to be amazed, every day seems to come with its own surpise package. Two years ago when i got the scholarship to study poetry in NYU ;New York University , it was like a dream. I would stay up all night fantasizing on what is to come , exictedly. I can never forget my first time travelling in a plane , my hands were clutched to the arm of my chair all through the flight, i was even scared of falling asleep thinking some how i may find my self falling through the plane window, funny. Coincidentally , the first person i spoke to when i landed at the airport was my room mate ;a pretty girl from chicago called “Mia “ , so she automatically became my first friend in New York . Later on i met more people and made more friends that in no time this new city became home to me.
Life was soo different here. Alot of things we call “wrong”back at home was called “ crazy” over here and they believe crazy was fun. Every weekends i visited Brooklyn botanic garden , few miles away from the university . I would sit in that beautiful , magical environment ,with my diary jotting down every memorable event during the week, leaving nothing out because to me , every moments spent in this amazing city is priceless .
Even when everything around me seems crazy and different , i managed to keep my sanity . I attended all classes and did well during exams, and no matter how Bryan tried to catch my attention , i pretended never to see him . I knew he liked me because he frequently parsuades Mia to make me go on a date with him but my heart was filled , i had no space for anybody else .
On the thrid sunday of every month , i get to speak with my Father. Its was usually nostalgia . I never thought i could miss him this much . We would spend long hours on phone talking about the same thing we spoke about the previous month, and the month before, and the month before . We kept discussing the same thing every month , at first i wondered why i couldn’t change the matter of discussion and later i understood why ;we both were scared to discuss comteporary matters , no one wanted to hurt the other. Speaking to him was the only way i could know what has changed about me like my accent and how i no longer remember to greet with Nigeria manners “GOOD EVENING SIR” , also speaking to him was like home to me ,so i long for every thrid sunday of the month desperately . The day when i get to speak to my father.
