It had been a very busy week at the shop, as I bid my last client of the day goodbye, feeling relieved that her dress didn't need any adjusting after fitting, it was already past my closing time, and her call earlier notifying me of her unavoidable lateness for the fitting made me wait the extra time. If she weren't a good and regular client, I probably would have been less patient and told her to book another appointment. Honestly, I was so tired and had to meet with my daughters, who I guess were already anticipating my return.
I had promised them we would be spending the weekend at Grandma's. I needed the rest, and Grandma was perfect at distracting their attention from me. The thought of having a quiet moment, even if just five minutes, was enough to push me through the last few tedious tasks of tidying up my shop, and then I locked the door and headed home.
The drive to Grandma's was less hectic than expected, as the always-busy road was somewhat free today. My parent's house though a bit renovated from the outside with a fresh coat of paint and some modern window frames, the inside still looked same and hold lots of memories from my childhood, my dad made sure it remained the same, so he wouldn't miss us his children too much, as we were all now adults and have houses of our own now. My daughters rushed in with excitement when we arrived, announcing their presence to every nook and cranny of the old house. I stood outside for a minute, overwhelmed with the feeling of nostalgia. I was home, I looked at the now cemented and tiled floor, with only a small portion left for my mum's vegetable gardening. It used to be all dusty, and our very own playground
I remembered how my siblings, our cousins, and friends from the neighbouring compound would often gather here to play, Suwe, ten-ten, clapping our hands and stepping to now forgotten rhythms, and the highlight of it all was stealing vegetables from mum's much bigger garden then to play mother and child, h how we end up ruining her garden most times and get punished later orm it, a smile I didn't know had formed lingered on my lips, as I walked through the door with a fuzzy feeling spreading through my chest, everything has changed now.
The smell of my mum's fried akara(bean-cake) hit me as I walked in, and my daughters seemed to be arguing over who gets to hold their surviving iPad, "no iPad this weekend", I said sternly, seizing it from them, much to their dismay. Their world of touchscreens and instant gratification against my childhood of scraped knees, dust, and pure joy. I wanted this weekend to be that for them.
My mum, sensing they were upset as I got their iPad seized, brought them an old box of treasures, with a tray of akara on the side.
That iPad your mum seized is nothing compared to what is inside this box' she said. The box contained treasures from our childhood.
Their eyes widened in excitement and curiosity as they left the tray of akara to dig into the box.
See what I found, Elena screamed in excitement. It was an old doll with some part of her hair lost, and her dress was overly hand-stitched to one side, but that didn't seem to bother Elena.
'That is your mum's first baby before you, Grandma said. I laughed out loud as my first daughter turned to look at me.
Funny, I named her Elena too. I remembered how I cherished the doll like it was a real baby, and did everything I could think of a baby needed to it, fed, bathed, clothed, and most of the time had it on my back tied firmly with a wrapper.
My other daughter got herself busy with Grandma's beads, jewelries and other treasures they found in the box, that they soon forgot about their iPad.
The evening drew by very quickly, as the night fell, we sat outside to feel the cool night breeze, my dad and I leaned back in the two surviving old wicker chairs, its familiar creak a comforting sound. My daughters, now nestled close to Grandma on the mat as their eyelids grew heavy, drifted off to sleep, lulled by the gentle rhythm of her voice. I closed my eyes, and more memories continued behind them.
