This photo was taken in mid-July, just a week or two after I walked out of that house fire tragedy in June. My sisters had joined me to go see our grandparents who instisted on giving thanks for the miracle of my still being alive and well.
This is my favourite chillspot when I am home. It is where I go to collect my thoughts and on this misty afternoon, the gratitude to experience it one more time weighed heavy on my soul. I had cheated death or probably it wasn't my time yet... who knows?
Yesterday, 20th October, I clocked 35. I was down with a nasty flu and fever kept claiming my conscious in uneven episodes but my soul was still so grateful to be here for it. I didn't mind experiencing it in bed the entire day, I was just glad to be turning 35.
I developed this fear at 15 years when I lost my favourite girl two days before her 33rd. I never thought I'd live past her dying age as weird as that sounds. I feel very lucky to be here.
Emily Dickinson everyman's poetry is helping me battle with my birthday flu and ready for my Tuesday morning class at Langata.
Finding this community and that creative writing project in prison are probably the best things I will cross over to 35 with. Both hold such huge potential enough to influence a better future.
I have no expectations as life has taught me otherwise but I will do my best to change for the better in every aspect of my life including friend, mother, sister, volunteer, student of life, and steemian. Wish me luck!
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