Sometimes it’s hard to stop a rolling stone
But whenever it may roll, it always seems to find its way back home. Alex Roe
I’m bringing a piece of me back. This gift, or ability to write started somewhere. I came from a family of disciplinarians, teachers, and soldiers. The women in my life, themselves great storytellers, played a big role in shaping what I’m today. The courage to go this far, in the face of challenges and many reasons to give up, proves that there’s a guardian angel out there. As a kid, whenever my aunts told me the stories, my grandfather told them, it was amusement to me. I never knew, my infant mind paid attention. Today I’m a storyteller myself and a proud one.
This piece is dedicated to my grandpa, Mazi Abraham Duruoha, a decorated World War 2 veteran, granny Uluocha Duruoha Chinyere, aunt Nnenna Stephen, and DSc Nduka Iroegbu. I’m grateful for the beautiful light they all shaded in my life. I must immortalize their names on this blog. May their beautiful souls continue to rest in perfect peace.
A Place In My Mind
There’s a place in my mind where my eyes desire,
Where my heart cheers when I behold its beauty
The mornings is one of joy for me,
The evening is a delight I long for,
Sometimes my pots are half full
Sometimes it is half-empty
But the peace here is contentment
At breakfast, Ma serves with joy the honey bread
She loves to tell many tales of life and stingy bees
And how we must not mess with any of those!
In the late evenings, granny starts her stories
She told of the countryside and her years
I learned grandfather fought in Hitler’s war,
How he loved the things I admired so much now,
Aunt Nena jokingly called me a reincarnate of him
A good laugh for all – my family, the beginning and end