The will at seven.

Childhood is a moment we cherish, and at different times, we reflect with smiles, occasionally with laughter, probably at how silly we were. Many adults like me feel children in this generation are not having as much fun and adventures as they did in our times, but on a lighter note, some of those adventures were due to limitations in available resources. That notwithstanding, it helped shape us into the better individuals that we have become today.

My tale of terror, as shared in the #hivelearners contest this week, is one that I look back on with a smile.

I was very playful and naughty while growing up; this is why I am grateful I did not fall into a well or the like. Whatever the case, how I got locked up in the room is one memory I find difficult to decipher to date, but yes, I got myself locked up in a room in my house. I was about seven years old, and the only understanding I had was that I was never getting out; perhaps I would die of starvation, rot, and never get to see my loved ones ever. There is a different feeling when you get locked in compared to when you are not ready to step out of the enclosure. Despite the reassurances that I was going to get out safe, it felt like I was going to be cut off from my loved ones for life.


My situation was different from claustrophobia; I was actually locked up and was resolute that life was soon coming to a halt. My mom and siblings were right outside the room, and every passing minute I spent inside locked in there felt like years were rolling by. My heart paced erratically, and at that moment, I began to bid farewell and make my will. I had little or no tangible properties of my own; I was barely seven years of age yet, and I was already willing to give things such as my school bag and footwear to others. I remember telling my mom to tell my friends and classmates how much I loved and would miss them. I was near tears, but strangely, there was no teardrop, and my mom equally made matters worse by her expression of worry.

My sweats were heavy, and my head was light. At that age, I experienced helplessness and separation from my loved ones. I kept bending down to the foot of the door and occasionally looking out the window, wishing I could be free once again like a bird. I searched the room for the key and my mom and siblings equally searched the remainder of the house to no avail.

About two hours later, dusk had already knocked when a neighbor eventually broke down the door. I looked humble and as though I had just returned from the land of the dead. Years later, and even until recently, my mom made reference to that incident. At that age, it was a big deal for me. Remembering now the verbal will I made and my farewell to my loved ones at that age brings a smile to my face, it is funny to me now but then, it was a farewell to existence.

Thank you for reading. I would love to have your comments and contributions.

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