Chapter 10: Learning to Smile Again
1295 Words
Three days passed after my aunt left.
Life in Grandma Olujobi's house was becoming more familiar, but there was still a quiet emptiness inside me.
The house was peaceful.
Every morning, I woke up without fear.
Nobody shouted my name in anger.
Nobody rushed me from my sleep.
I could breathe.
I could think.
But sometimes, peace can feel lonely when you have no one your age to share it with.
Grandma noticed everything.
She noticed how I often sat quietly by myself.
She noticed that I hardly spoke.
Sometimes she would find me sitting outside, staring into the distance for no reason.
I wasn't unhappy.
I simply didn't know how to be happy yet.
One afternoon, I heard voices outside.
When I looked toward the gate, I saw my aunt walking in.
She wasn't alone.
Standing beside her was a young girl.
She looked a little older than I was.
She carried a small bag and looked around the compound with curious eyes.
When they entered the sitting room, my aunt smiled.
"Cynthia," she called.
I walked over quietly.
"This is your cousin, Maria."
I looked at the girl.
She smiled gently at me.
I smiled back, although mine was much smaller.
Then my aunt explained everything to Grandma.
Maria had once stayed with her too.
But because she had also experienced difficulties in that house, my aunt had taken her to stay with one of her friends at Mile 12.
When Grandma saw how lonely I had become, she suggested bringing Maria to stay with us.
She wanted someone close to my age to keep me company.
Someone I could laugh with.
Someone I could talk to.
Someone who would remind me that I was still a child.
As the adults talked, I quietly studied Maria.
She looked calm.
She didn't seem proud.
She didn't seem unfriendly.
There was a gentleness about her that immediately made me feel comfortable.
After their conversation, my aunt prepared to leave again.
Before she left, she looked at both of us and smiled.
"I want both of you to take good care of yourselves."
We nodded.
Then she left.
Once again, the gate closed behind her.
This time, however, I wasn't alone.
Maria was standing beside me.
Even though Grandma agreed to let Maria stay, I noticed something.
She didn't seem completely happy about the arrangement.
She treated Maria kindly, but I could sense she had some concerns deep inside.
At that time, I didn't understand why.
I simply believed she accepted Maria because she wanted me to have someone my age around me.
Looking back now, I realize that Grandma always paid attention to people's character.
She noticed things long before everyone else did.
But because she loved me, she was willing to give Maria a chance.
At first, Maria and I didn't talk much.
Both of us were quiet.
Both of us seemed unsure of each other.
Sometimes we would sit together watching television without saying a word.
Sometimes we simply watched Grandma as she moved around the house.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
The silence began to disappear.
We started talking about little things.
What food we liked.
The cartoons we enjoyed watching.
The places we had lived.
Soon, those small conversations became laughter.
For the first time in a long while, I had someone to share my days with.
Someone who understood what it meant to grow up too quickly.
Grandma seemed happy whenever she heard us laughing.
Sometimes she would call both of us into her room.
She never wanted us to feel left out.
She made us feel like we belonged.
One thing I will never forget about Grandma Olujobi was how intentional she was.
She didn't simply give us food and shelter.
She tried to heal our hearts.
Sometimes she would play music in the sitting room.
Then she would challenge us to a dancing competition.
Maria and I would laugh until our stomachs hurt.
Grandma herself would dance with us.
Watching an elderly woman dancing with two little girls made the whole house feel alive.
Those were moments I had never experienced before.
Other times, she would take us out.
She bought us little things we needed.
Sometimes it was clothes.
Sometimes shoes.
Sometimes snacks.
To many people, they were ordinary things.
But to me, they felt extraordinary.
Every little gift reminded me that someone cared.
Someone had thought about me.
Someone believed I deserved nice things too.
Day by day, I slowly became more comfortable.
I laughed more.
I smiled more.
I even began talking a little more than before.
But healing is never as simple as people imagine.
Even though my surroundings had changed...
My memories had not.
There were days when the past suddenly came rushing back.
Days when I remembered every painful moment.
The insults.
The beatings.
The fear.
The loneliness.
Those memories would quietly settle inside my heart without warning.
Whenever that happened, I would leave the house and walk to the backyard.
It became my little hiding place.
I would sit alone beneath the open sky.
Then the tears would come.
Nobody had hurt me that day.
Nobody had shouted at me.
Nobody had done anything wrong.
Yet I cried.
Not because of the present.
But because of the past.
The pain I had buried for so long was slowly finding its way to the surface.
Sometimes I cried because I couldn't understand why my childhood had been so different from other children's.
Sometimes I cried because I remembered everything I had survived.
Other times...
I cried because God had finally answered my prayers.
It may sound strange.
But gratitude can also bring tears.
After spending so long believing I would never escape, I could hardly believe I was finally safe.
There were also moments when I missed my parents so much that my chest hurt.
I would sit quietly and wonder.
Did they know where I was?
Were they looking for me?
Had they forgotten me?
Did they think I no longer existed?
As a child, I couldn't understand why they hadn't come.
Every question remained unanswered.
And every unanswered question brought another tear.
Almost every time Maria noticed I was missing, she knew exactly where to find me.
She would quietly walk into the backyard.
She never forced me to stop crying.
She simply sat beside me.
Sometimes she placed her hand on my shoulder.
Sometimes she hugged me.
Sometimes she said nothing at all.
And strangely...
Her silence comforted me more than words ever could.
She understood that some wounds cannot be healed by talking.
Some wounds simply need someone willing to stay.
Little by little, our friendship grew stronger.
She became more than just my cousin.
She became the sister I needed during the darkest season of my life.
Grandma watched us carefully.
She was happy to see the changes in me.
The little girl who hardly spoke was beginning to laugh again.
The child who always looked afraid was slowly learning what safety felt like.
One evening, after watching us play together, Grandma turned to Uncle Tola.
"I think it's time," she said.
"They have stayed at home long enough."
She asked him to begin looking for a good school where Maria and I could continue our education.
When I heard those words, my heart skipped a beat.
School.
It had been a long time since I had thought about being a normal child.
I had become so used to surviving that I had forgotten children were supposed to learn, make friends, and dream about the future.
Without realizing it, another new chapter of my life was about to begin.
And this time...
It wasn't just my heart that was beginning to heal.
My future was beginning to heal too.
- Writer
