My right to choose
Hello #freewriters,
Once upon a time, a family in my neighbourhood lived with a lovable, rich culture that included no vulgar words, saying sorry when wrong, and the right to choose what they wanted as long as it wasn't negative.
One day, their son came home with a girl named Chioma and happily introduced her to his mum, claiming they had known each other since their high school days, and declared his intention to settle down with her in the near future.
Pheww, the mum snapped, not in this house, Obinna. I have told you before, and I’m telling you again, you have to train your younger brothers, get your own car, and make the family comfortable before talking about settling down with anybody. Obinna, remember what your daddy and I went through for you to become a graduate. No, Obinna, you can’t do this to us; you need to rethink this again.
As she was fuming, Obinna responded, " Mum, I think I have sacrificed a lot already. I have paid my younger brother's school fees, and in a few months, he will graduate, get a good job, and help pave the way for the rest. Together we can achieve our goals. Common mum, this is my right now; I have the right choice before me. I don’t want to miss her. This is my right to choose between success and failure.
At that point, the mum slowed down and kept silent while listening to Obinna reiterating his statement candidly, “My right to choose between success and failure, my right to choose between peace and sadness. Yes, I think I have made the right choice and have chosen the right person. You and Dad gave us that exclusive right to choose.
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