|Home, Sweet Sweet Home|
But I still hold on to that child. Nowadays, I'm known to run around in the rain, sit on deserted roads and generally let that child out as often as can. But I live in "the Lagos", where a minute of enchantment is certain suicide. I dream of an idyllic wedding on a beach or flower garden, me in a free flowing chiffon gown, barefoot, a flower tucked behind my ear and the wind in my hair...
Of course, I realise I will probably have to marry SOMEONE. And that someone would more likely than not have a family. And maybe his dream and theirs would be of huge canopies, air-conditioned halls, half a dozen serving points, unbelievable party favours, and half the guests dressed in matching clothes!
Now, I'm afraid that life, or the reality (ies) of life would take this child, far far away. I'm afraid I'm losing her. I'm afraid I've lost her already, and I need to find her again. But how?
Afterall, it was the fear of snakes lurking in trees that stopped my daily visits into their warm embrace, long before the pencil skirts!
And... Strangely, it has been agreed that all children are essentially monkeys!