YOU

My love for coffee is stronger than Museveni’s grip on power. You can’t separate us, ask the doctor in Pandya; he tried, but we will not let haters rain on our love parade. We are stuck together like chewing gum on hair.

A couple of days ago, I put some water on the cooker to boil some coffee. I didn’t want to stand there and watch it come to a boil. Do you know how boring that is; just standing there waiting for the endothermic reaction to complete? I decided to do other world-saving activities such as scrubbing toilets bowls and screaming at tiny humans to pick their toys from the floor.

My world-saving acts were very fruitful, but I forgot about the simmering pot of coffee as promptly as politicians forget their promises. The water evaporated, and my silver aluminum Kaluworks pot was now white.

Another minute and it’d have probably melted; I don’t know the melting point of metals. My mind blocked during the mole concepts class, and it hasn’t opened up.

That was not an isolated occurrence. I have often stepped into the kitchen, stood there for a minute to remember what took me there in the first place.

This is very alarming for me because I don’t consider myself old. Inside, I still feel like the little girl in high school who wore shoe size number 30 and thought her boobs were too small for her age. If that girl knew that God was still planning to add a few more KGs to her chest, she’d have trusted the process.

I still feel 25, although that thought is challenged when I try to dance the gwara gwara. (That dance style where you slightly lift one hand and twist the other arm and foot simultaneously like … Ok, I can’t explain it. I’ll show you.

I end up looking like I have an unresolved case of rickets. I stopped trying. At least I can do Odi and that stumbling Jerusalema dance.  

Recently, a friend sold me a book. It’s called, “What did I come upstairs for?” I hate that I identify so much with the writer, who I have presumed is much older than me. She could be 40, but do you know how far 40 seems to a 35-year-old? 35-year olds looked so old to me a few years ago, and now, I am they. (Not to be confused with the Music Group, I Am They)

I’m now the grown-up I used to see in other people. I’m at the age my mama was when she had me. The reality of growing up is hitting so hard as if it suddenly happened. You’d think growing up is like boiling beans; it’s more like boiling milk. You blink, and you’ll be mopping the milk off the floor.

What do I do?

Last week, I attended the birthday of a lovely girl who is I can bet my Sacco savings will be Miss World someday. She was turning 6. It was so divine to sit with three other beautiful, intelligent women and talk adults speak. Conversation flowed freely, and it helped that I didn’t have to watch the babies in the pool – a coach was doing that.

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Get on another project.”

That sentence has been simmering in my head for a week. When you’ve been a work-from-home mom for a while, you start feeling like the only thing you’re good at is wiping noses and kissing away booboos. It’s a wonderful job, I wouldn’t trade the past years for anything, but it’s a job that gives you very early retirement. Before you know it, they are grown and gone and you’re left sniffing their clothes in the closet and wondering what to do now that there are no more play dates.

I was suggesting getting a project baby to keep me young, although I have said it here before that I’m not boarding that train again. Mid-life crisis can make you do things you swore by an oath of blood that you won’t do. This rat race we found ourselves in is moving faster than the Snowpiercer (I loved that series, it’s on Netflix), and we get lost in the scurry. Soon, we’ll be having dentures, walking sticks, creaking bones and backs that can’t bend. And the only thing we’ll be sorry for are those we didn’t do.

Get another project, and there’s no better project than project YOU. Don’t lose you. Begin, today. Do something that reminds you of who you were before the bills, the laundry on the couch, the traffic jam, and the nasty boss. Something seems silly but that makes you stupidly happy.

What do YOU want to do? This answer is between the pages of the Bible that moths are feeding on in the suitcase under your bed.

Ephesians 2:10, “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

God does speak, you know?

4 thoughts on “YOU

  1. You don’t know how loud this has made me laugh. You are truly the queen of metaphor and you feel me…or rather I feel you. I am that mama…early retirement, I blinked and the next thing we are looking at colleges!!! I am reading the bible but project ME is still not clear.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A great read. Always a joy to read you, not the project, I mean. Talking of which, lasses, it seems, are often better at this – focusing on project ‘them’ – than lads! And if to you who has written to encourage us to, project ‘You’ is also hazy, any hopes for us?

    Liked by 1 person

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