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When I drove into my family house, it was barely 7pm but it was already dark. The sound of generators hung around in the air, like the thick harmattan wind. I was starting to feel nostalgic. This place and particularly the weather made it feel like Christmas. Few decorations were already in place. In my words, “December had started decembering.” I could not wait to hear the sounds of “banger.”
I took a deep breath and I honked, hoping that the gateman would take time to open the gate. I hoped that he would not make so much noise. In about five minutes, the gate was opened and no unnecessary pleasantries were exchanged. Maybe this was a good sign.
“Good evening, Mr I.B.” I said as I killed the engine. It has always been “Mr I.B. At least, everyone except my father calls him that. I think I. B is the short for Ibekwe.
“Annie, good evening dear. How’s work? Thank God you came home this Christmas. Chinedu hasn’t stopped asking of you.” He said with a genuine smile. Chinedu was his five year old son who sometimes come to stay with my mother on breaks like this.
“Thank you sir. Work is fine. I’ll help myself with my things. Do you know if my father is in?”
“Okay no problem. Your father is in. See his car over there.” He pointed to a wine coloured highlander that I hadn’t noticed. Nicee. Even my father had upgraded.
“Thank you.” I carried only my box of clothes into the house.
I opened the door to the main entrance. My mother saw me first. Her reaction was priceless. She hadn’t expected me back home. I didn’t inform any of my parents that I would be coming home.
“Ann my baby girl.” She ran to hug me. My box fell in the process. She definitely missed her only child. I tried to hold back my tears. I wanted to say “mother, don’t hold me. I have failed you as a child and I don’t deserve to be in your embrace” but I didn’t say anything. I just stared and gave up on trying to hold my tears.
My father was looking the whole time, waiting for his turn to hold his daughter.
