One day, Some day.

One day, it will all make sense, and you’ll understand: why the taxi had stopped a little too late and why you had almost run into the drunk cycle man, on your way to the interview; why you puked on the eve of your date with Eman and had to cancel on ever meeting him; why she never said yes even though the vibes were overwhelmingly present; why he never asked you out even when you ticked all those boxes of a wife material; why it took too long to come, the appointment letter; why it never came, the America Visa; why Solape, your age mate, was married with kids when you were still searching for Mr Right; why you never got the courage to tell the bullies in High School to get a life; why you always felt so different; why you always felt so the same

One day, the bits of your puzzled mysteries will fit together, and you’ll see– a little too clearly. Or maybe it wouldn’t matter anymore, because you would no longer mind; because you would then have learnt that to understand life is to appreciate and accept its mysteries.

One day, it will happen. And you will smile. And you will tell your mind, yo man, I told you we’d be alright.

some day

**

© The Short Black Girl, 2016.

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