A home they say is one's own dwelling place, the habitual abode of one's family. I was raised in a home full of compassion, love, and harmony. My early years were filled with a wealth of love, care, attention, and cherished moments. It was beautiful.
Unexpectedly, the course of my life took an unforeseen turn. One fateful night, an intruder broke into our home, expressing harmful intentions. My mom bravely intervened, offering him money to protect me.
Despite the money not being hers, she courageously defended and offered it for our safety. After the distressing incident, my concern for my mom heightened. The substantial sum involved was a collective contribution from numerous individuals.
Just as expected, the time finally arrived for them to reclaim their money, and the situation became pressing. No one was interested in hearing us out.
The situation became more heated, and the pressure was increasingly overwhelming.
"I don't know the language you're speaking right now, all I care so much about is my money and I must get it today," Mrs. Eneh said. Her anger was palpable, a tangible force in the air I could sense.
And again, l looked into my mom's troubled countenance, absorbing the worry etched on her face. There, I realized she got into this mess because of me, and then I remembered her favorite lines. "You and your brother are the reason I never gave up."
She came through for me, putting herself on the line. My mom was in a helpless state, one I felt so terrible for. I yearned for an end to it all, I wanted peace.
The peace I longed for was far away, especially when Mrs. Eneh started making some crucial calls. I could surmise that she contacted the rest of the people involved, so my heart raced.
"Mom! I feel she is calling the rest, or maybe the police. What do we do?" I asked with a tremor in my voice.
"I don't know my child. I wish they could give me some time, I wish they could even listen to me," Mom responded somberly.
Within a few minutes, a group of people arrived, accompanied by the police. A whirlwind of emotions engulfed me, my heart was shattered, and in profound distress. Who was going to save my mom?
"Take her away, take her. You're not leaving that cell until you provide our money," One of the women pitched.
"Officer, please. We were attacked, we were robbed. Please, don't take her away. I promise we will provide the money," I pleaded.
In a sudden surge of despair, my emotions overwhelmed me and I couldn't hold back the tears. I cried, wailed and desperately pleaded for mercy with a heart in turmoil.
My mother was taken away, and I was left alone with my little brother. I couldn't eat, sleep, or do anything knowing that my mother was in a police cell. I needed to do something, maybe meet someone, just anyone who could help. Then I made up my mind to seek out the retired police officer residing in our neighborhood, Mr. Anthony.
"Good day Sir," I greeted.
"Good day! How are you?" he asked.
"I'm not fine, Sir," I replied in an undertone, as silent tears escaped my eyes.
"What's the problem? Are you okay?"
"No Sir, I'm not okay. My mom has been arrested, and I......"
"You mean Stella?" He asked in shock.
"Yes Sir. Two days ago, a thief bashed into our house, intent on having his way with me, but my mom rescued me by offering him money that wasn't hers alone but a pooled contribution from various individuals. So today, they were here to retrieve their money but got faced with the unsettling news that prompted them to call the police on my mom," I effortlessly explained.
"Please Sir, I need your help. I don't know how, but please help me," I pleaded.
"It's okay, I'll be on my way there within the next hour. Let me round off with what I was doing," he assured.
"Should I go with you?" I requested.
"No! Stay safe at home, and I will find my way there."
I should have felt relieved, but not just yet. I needed to see my mom. Was she detained in a cell or held at the front counter? An incessant flow of these questions inundated my thoughts.
The day after, our house was infiltrated by a group of boys who absconded with our living room belongings, and our house was totally empty. I couldn't stop them, I was just 17. Then I ran back to Mr. Anthony and informed him of what had just occurred.
"Do you mean those boys made away with your mom's belongings? Can you list them? I'm going back to the station. I'm sure they were sent by one of those people," he said.
I started listing the things they took off with accurately, not adding or subtracting. I never stopped thinking about my mom. Mr. Anthony had kindly offered to get her some snacks on his way, while he urged me to stay back and take care of my brother.
Slowly, I walked back home. Walking into the living room, I felt a pang of sadness, yearning for the familiarity of home and the comforting presence of my mom.
Seated in front of our house, I gazed at the road, holding onto hope for my mom's return. And just as I'd hoped and wished, I caught a glimpse of her and Mr. Anthony approaching the house. Then my joy knew no bounds as I ran into her warm embrace, never wanting to let go.
"Welcome home, Mom!" I said with my heart brimming with joy.
"Thank you so much, Sir. I'm really grateful for everything," Mom graciously thanked.
"Thank you very much, Sir," I thanked too.
"You're all welcome. Stella, settle down, eat, and rest. Everything is fine now, and I assure you that they won't show their faces here anymore. I made sure of that. Sending hoodlums to tamper with your property, especially after your arrest was a serious transgression against the law. Fortunately, it played a role in your bail being granted. As for your belongings, don't bother about them, cause your sanity is more important," Mr. Anthony advised"
"The items they made off with far exceed the financial loss, but it's fine," Mom said.
"To add to it, I will give you some money to assist you. I'm sorry for what happened to you, stay strong," he uttered.
It dawned on me that Mr. Anthony was such an amazing, incredibly good man. I was touched by his kindness.
"Mom, I'm sorry for everything. For the money, the arrest, and for our belongings. I wish I could've stopped them," I apologized.
"It's fine, my child. It's over now. Don't worry about our living room, we will fix it. I couldn't have allowed that animal to move an inch close to you. And you know that you and your brother are the reason....."
"You never gave up," I cut in. We both smiled.
I'm glad I never lost my hope, and I never lost my home. My mom remains my home, a constant presence in my life even to this very moment.
And YEAH, we are fine, strong, and better today.
photo is mine
