Dream - Like.

New Year

We only live once
So obviously we only love once.

Dedicated to Lafilleagath for the amazing comment in the first chapter
And also to all new 12 followers

Every Christian youth in Nigeria hate it when New Year fell on days that weren't Sundays. The worst was when it fell on a Tuesday, it meant one had to go to church 3days straight, Sunday for normal Mass, Monday for crossover mass and then Tuesday for New year Mass. Well, how do I know we hate it? I hate it and so everyone should too. Those were my thoughts as I quickly ate my breakfast so I can meet up with my family in the car. I had woken up late as usual but this time I woke up later than usual. After morning devotion, I had gone to my room to take my bath so we can go to church but decided to rest a little, a little that ended up to be 20 minutes little. I only woke up when Udochukwu had knocked for me to come down for breakfast. I rushed my bath and found a blue lacy gown and my black shoe and wore. When I got down for breakfast they were almost done eating, dad was silent, even mum had no words for me, only my brother looked up at me when I sat down then made the sign of the cross and served myself.

Last night had been extraordinary in it's own way. For once I had enjoyed Crossover on a monday, maybe because I had sat down with my brother and while the sermon was going on about "dropping your baggage", we were holding our rosaries and discussing about everyone our eyes landed on, the priest inclusive. " I really don't like the robe on Father Chukwudi" Udochuchukwu had confessed " it makes him look like a dough, you know the kind that Mum makes and allows to rise", he whispered to me making me giggle "I prefer it on Father David" I had murmured.

After every New year mass, it was a tradition that every member of my extended family come home for lunch. A meal that mum pays people to make, she even makes sure that there are freshly baked biscuits and pies for my younger siblings. Once she had told the caterers to make ice cream and although they did their best and it turned out good, everyone frequented the toilet for days. This new year I was really looking forward to seeing my cousins again, especially Stella and Ifeoma my dad's elder sister's only children and my best friends. My dad is the last of five children,( three boys and two girls) and although he is the last, he is the most successful. Being one of the best Judges in the state, not to brag or blow our trumpets, but he does appear regularly on TV, talking about one civil right or wrong and few times topics on constitutional wrongs. Although he is the most successful, he still shows respect for his elders, especially Uncle George who is the first. Aunty Laurel, my dad's first sister used to tell Udochukwu and I a story, that while they were growing up, Dad was so spoilt and pampered by our grandparents that no one ever touched him, he would make trouble outside but no one will beat him, because they were afraid of my grandfather. So one evening Uncle George and Dad played football and uncle George beat dad with 14goals to none. Then the next day while uncle George got ready to leave for school in his white and blue, dad poured palm oil on him. She had said it happened in a flash, the next thing everyone saw was uncle George pinning dad on the ground and beating him, everything was used, his hands and feet, belt, bag, cap, key and while he vented out his anger. My grandparents stood rooted on the ground watching and although everyone expected that grandpa would scold or beat Uncle, he never did, and no one ever talked about it. "he beat sense into him that day" she would say giggling.

"Kamsiriochi, if we wait another minute for you? You will walk all 45mins to church" I heard dad say as I pushed the plates in the sink and found my way to the car, everywhere was occupied by the caterers.

"Sorry Sir," I said entering the car.

"Did you hear that Father Chukwudi is leaving?" Olachi whispered to me during the sermon of faith.
"Yes, my mum mentioned it yesterday, so who is coming here?" I asked pretending to find the verse that father David had said.
"One new father that just finished schooling in Rome, father Cheta," she said smiling.
" Why are you smiling?" I inquired, looking at the altar boys.
Once Udochukwu had been an altar boy until one of the old ladies had hugged him and said " Father anyi " our father , indicating that he would be a Reverend father and my dad wasn't ready to have his only son be a Catholic priest. So he pulled him out with the defense that he had the musician kind of face and then he made him take piano lessons.