Painted Dreams

seventeenth may,

It's my birthday and no matter how I try to forget it's my birthday it kept running back to this little brain of mine, screaming and shouting that it's my birthday. It's not that there was anything so special about it, it's just the fact that I was born 23 years ago today . And nothing else. Absolutely nothing else. But for the first time in my life I was suddenly worried about the very fact that it was my birthday. The birthday itself carried itself and planted itself in my heart and causing an unusual heaviness deep down.

For the first time I began to look for birthday wishes. I looked at the notifications in my phone; it wasn't much, just Facebook wishing me a happy birthday, my bank, first bank even remembered me even when I had nothing more than ten thousand naira in their vaults. Their message was quite long; First bank wishes you a happy birthday. You are special and dear to us. We wish you more prosperous years ahead. First bank.
I was tempted at first to saw awwn but when I remembered that the cost of such messages would be deducted from my account I was forced to make a loud mtcheww. They even knew I felt infinitesimal in their scheme of things by lieing to me that i was special. What was I supposed to do with that ? Was that supposed to make me feel better or proud that I have ten thousand naira in their gigantic vaults? I immediately deleted the message . Their insincerity was just painful. Or perhaps I was too hard on them

Leaving me with Facebook notification about my birthday.  Well, that will do. At least they were not lieing to me and laughing behind my back. On my birthday the least you could give me was sincerity. Still on my bed, I traveled to Facebook, Watsapp and Twitter the only three social media platforms I had but nothing but a lot useless information flying around as usual, beautiful girls displaying their beauty, rich guys flaunting thier riches to the world, boring people still trying to remind the world that they are still breathing. 
What of mum and my sisters? Perhaps it was too early to expect birthday wishes from anyone. It was just fourty-six minutes past six. People were still waking up from their sleep. And so with my earphones plugged to my ear I listened with my eyes closed to ABBA's classic; I have a dream. That at least was the best way to celebrate your birthday. Reminding yourself that your dreams could still be turned on reality. That angels still exist. And I hope, no, i wished I saw one someday
 
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On my birthday I was late for church. While I was busy dreaming of angels and love. I took a short bath and within fifteen minutes I was on my way to church. My church,st matthews catholic church kaduna was just fifteen minutes walk from my house and so I walked. I arrived church when the gospel was being read by the young priest. As I stood outside waiting for the priest to finish the gospel read my phone rang. I wondered who it might be( people rarely call me) and lo and behold mum. Almighty mum. Well I answered not minding the stares from my fellow late comers. I moved away from the church entrance to hear her better ... Happy birthday to you lyrics rang out and I couldn't help but blush. She and my two younger sisters were singing me a happy birthday. If that were the only people that wished me a happy birthday in this world I'm satisfied. That joyous serenade was still emanating from my phone and planting flowers in my soul when a huge bang burst my ear drums. For a second I heard nothing. I felt like a huge rock had cracked my skull, then darkness covered my world. What a birthday!