“Thank you mother!
It’s not mother’s day… wait sorry? Yes it is. For me mother, everyday is your day. I mean I can’t even imagine that you had ‘a’ day set aside to love me, I never saw such.

What I saw was your little pink book – ‘A mother’s prayer for her daughter’ at least that’s what I remember it read, by your side and next to your bible every other day, as I interrupted your prayers to say goodbye to you before I left for school. I remember you leaving all you built, all you had become in the split second you sensed I needed your attention the most, at the time I was the most vulnerable to the soft yet, highly toxic grip of the world. I still meet you praying I know for me, when I pay you early weekend visits.

Oh mother! This office, you never took a break off. No leaves, no holidays and no rest. Your diligence so astound, you suffered for it; the only ‘time off’ you willfully surrendered to, were imposed by life itself on your strength, your body, your health and sometimes you still challenged the order. (Laughs)

Oh mother! The sacrifices you paid, full. The sacrifice of watching me cry out loud when your rod of correction which in most cases was a slim baby branch off the tree in the compound that you would sometimes instruct my older cousin to break off, landed on my bum, each stroke sending me to sometimes exaggerated wails, which broke your heart. I only realize looking back now (because each time you would call me afterwards and give me a pet talk, explaining why the strokes were indeed necessary), you would never accept to spare my bum and spoil me. The sacrifice of the responsibility you were gifted and that which you inherited owing to daddies passing away soo early. Having to be the bread winner and provider, the home preserver, the lecturer, the comforter, the defender, the inspector and judge while still role modeling – You had to be careful that everything was a perfect balance in order to maintain a loving relationship with the child you bore and a respectable relationship with that same child you bore. The sacrifice of solitude, because I was never ready to accept the idea of another ‘father figure’ I mean you role played daddy perfectly, plus extra already!

Oh mother! The values you taught. Showing me God soo early, schooling me properly, guiding me diligently in his ways, ensuring that consciously and otherwise, I was deliberate about him. I did not always stay on the road, sometimes I stylishly veered off the sides, but the deposit was in and sealed; I always jumped right back and now that I am a grown woman, I remain completely dependent on and deliberate still, about him. You taught me forgiveness by forgiving, you taught me love by loving; you love despite, you love truly! You taught me strength by living strong; an African single mother overcoming all odds, still overcoming all odds and gracefully! Yes! I know it was God mummy, but I saw it through your obedience *raised eye brows*. You taught me independence; no one else ever thought it as good as you lived it. You taught me respect; right from my tender age, when you would literally ‘call me out’ in public for not going all the way to the ground, when I greeted my elders. Your words still echo in my ears at this minute, “Don’t you know you are Yoruba and Yoruba’s go all the way to the ground?” (With that look on your face that arranged every senselessness). You insured this respect with occasional dazes, side laps and dramatic threats like picking up a shoe to throw at me, when the haughty, self-discovering teen in me surfaced. Heck! The thought of hearing “Oh so you think you’re a grown woman now ba?” Even now, keeps me in check and helps me pass my points carefully in life. You taught me the value of relationships even without knowing. Your strict guard on me when it related to guys, developed in me patience and completely eradicated desperation, I did learn some lessons in that department on my own but, the scars were barely on the surface and were easily brushed off because of your foundation. You taught me humility and respect for each person’s character, just living same. You taught me to listen more and talk less; we struggled for the most part of my early years and growing on this, well partly because the talk gene is strong in… *coughs* but, you won! You taught me to believe and depend on God, believe in me, love, hope and respect everyone basically.

Oh mother! You invested in me and you believe in me. Primary, Secondary, University and Post University, when my first job started and ended in the house literally (laughs). Even early years of being in the workforce and somewhere deep within, I know that even now the load has been lifted, it’s just that – lifted! Your investment is my life, the whole of it. You have been my first support, my first push, my everyday motivation, urging me, listening to my concerns when I can share.

Oh mother! You were and are perfect even in your imperfections. I still have those moments where I literally hold the phone away from my ear for some minutes, when you take the discussion to a rather surprising point. Sometimes I just want to ‘arrrrrrgggghhhh’ when you completely miss my point, then turn it all to a lecture (Laughs).
Oh mother! Now that I am not always around you, I want to reassure you – everyday is your day in my heart I’m sure even when I don’t say it, I will always feel that way.

Thank you mother!



Your daughter.”

She sighed a breath of satisfaction as she proof-read what she had just typed out on the Microsoft word sheet, navigated her mouse to the windows button above to save and send later that evening, after the day’s hustle and schedules at the News press were fully executed. She knew, Damilola knew the 1 hour call of blessings that would follow upon receiving the mail, by her mum would be inescapable and she did not want to be tied down.

(*Subtle Knocks on the door* the receptionist walks in cautiously).

“Yes Adamara?” Damilola looks expectantly at her receptionist, “Is there any problem?”
“No, none at all, the Chiarman just requested I call your attention to his office”
“Oh, sure, sure. He didn’t want to call me directly? She has a questioned/confused look on.
“I think it’s because I bumped into him on his way to the elevator. I believe he just came into the building, he was on his way to his office”
At that moment the desk phone beeps…
“Good morning sir… yes sir, she just did, I would be with you shortly….” Adamara takes her queue to return back to her office.
The door is shut.




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