It was an unusually sunny day in early spring. I had just succeeded in putting the kids to bed for their routine afternoon nap. It was a tough job as they preferred to play rather than sleep especially when the sun is up in the sky and other children are running around cheering and laughing.
As I sat on the dinning table reflecting on what had just taken place between us, my eyes were glued to the to the blossoming flowers on the window. I was lost in thought momentarily as my mind wandered away.
It was many years ago when I was with my grand mother in Afube, our tiny village. I had tried to engage her in a conversation as I wanted to hear her once again tell me stories, stories I and my cousins had listened to times without number. Yet, we were never bored to hear…
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