Its raining outside. The kind of January rain that I’ve never seen before here. And I’ve just been waiting for it to end. Because I want to wear my dresses without coats. But like everything else in my life, it chooses its own path.
I’m listening to this guy with this voice. I’ve been trying to find words to describe his voice, the way he sings, and what it does to me, in vain. In his language that I don’t understand, he keeps me company. His voice is like a soothing balm to my battered soul. Its not the kind of voice that tells you its going to be okay. Its not the kind that wipes away your tears. Neither is it the kind that induces more tears. Its the kind that pulls a chair next to you, as you weep your soul out, and serenades your sorrow.
Today is the last day of January.
And I don’t know what to do about the above fact. Or about the fact that i’m afraid i’ll kill my plant, my cactus, with darkness. I don’t like drawing the curtains .
And i’m scared that my plant will die. I’ve been checking it for growth, and I can’t see any. I would hate for it to die. Would hate for my house to have been such a dark place for it to thrive in, literally.
I remember the day I bought a pot for it. How I spent time selecting the best pot for it. How I wanted my plant to feel comfortable, to know that i’m thinking about it. And that I care.
Then I came to the house and tried transplanting it, just to realize that I had bought a smaller pot. Halfway through the transplanting that is. I couldn’t return the plant to the plastic bag that I had already cut into pieces. So I struggled. Damaging some roots.
Which explains my fears. But I was told that its a hardy plant. That it survives harsh climates, is it a pot mishap it won’t?
So I watch it each day, hoping to see signs of growth. Something. Anything, that would indicate that its growing. So far, no obvious signs. Like no extra shoots.
Do I give it more water? Take it out of my house? But I want to see it with me. What do I do?
That’s my soul right now.
I’m afraid of the decisions I’ve made for myself. I’m afraid that I try too much. Or at times try too little. And I can’t see any new shoots growing. Just the old me.
And this not knowing, makes me feel like visiting some cave, and just hibernating for a while. No movement. No thinking. No nothing.
Some would call this fatigue. And may be it is. But for how long will I be fatigued?
There is this KCB towers whose green light up there lights up the sky in green. And for some reason, each time I come to the window at night, and see it, it sends me to fits of tears. For reasons bests known to it. Of course right now my relationship with KCB isn’t the best, but I don’t know why seeing that green reflection in the sky just incites my tear ducts.
But today is the last day of January.
And maybe I should celebrate that. That I made it through.
But I do not want to make it through months. Yeah, I know. Sometimes that’s all that matters.
But I want to thrive through months. To excite my way through the days and weeks.
Tomorrow begins my birthday month. I’ve waited for my 25th as much as Christians have waited for Jesus Christ.
And writing that, that its finally my birthday month brings tears to my eyes. Because my birthday month brings out the girl in me. The dreamer in me. The one who wants what she wants. The one who centers me. The one I live for inside there.
It brings up the little things that light me up. The suit I’ve wanted for almost a decade now. The countries I’ve been salivating for since time immemorial. My passport lying there in Nyayo house uncollected. The pictures I’ve always wanted to mount on my wall. The camera I’ve always wanted. The stories I want to be told. The experiences I want to have.
And maybe this season isn’t so bad. Or rather nothing can be that bad when its my birthday month. When its that time for dreams to come alive.
And if nothing else, i’ll be grateful for this chance to dream again. To believe in the potential happiness contained therein. And to feel the surge of hope.
Mwende Kyalo 