The Diary of a Perfect Day

​     Opaque soft azure appeal, with a surface broken by brown trails that flows and mixes with an elusive inconsistency. It pleads with me that it does not like the Nigerian sun and does not wish to be on a wall. I go on spinning the rollers.

“Then you would love the moon” I say and go on spinning.

      It is thick and consistent now. I drag the paint bucket to back of the house where the sun never reaches. I begin to roll and cut, brush and coat. I finish applying, in delicate patterns . It comes out all aesthetic, beatiful and neat. Just as i pack up and begin to make my way back into the house, i become overwhelmed by a voice. It tells me to always chose to be where I am celebrated. 

      I do not speak of the sun like most people. I simply imerse myself in its awe. Little wonder why, even at midnight, you would find me on a verdant carpet on the verandah, staring into the moons eyes, looking for reflections of the sun. This sun is like its creator. He never blinks, never rests. He’s mighty as he’s powerful. One way we can reach him even in dark moments of our lives is to find his reflections in his word.

      “And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.”  


          At Dawn,this verse sticks to you and hinges down on your mien all day. You’re entirely appreciative. You repeat the words of the verse slowly, like counting prayer beads. One more time again.  Its the last day of the year and surprisingly you happen to be retrospective, humbled, and feel grateful. You know, looking back at the periods of the year when you thought it was almost over and he came and made a way. Remembering the days you knew you were dead beat yet with your last breath you’d mutter “Jesus take control of today” and he actually does, leaving you simply shocked at the end of day and exclaiming “Truly, there is a God! There is a God o!”. 

 A tear is slipping past now and you dare not hold it back. Your knees give in and you sink to the floor. Yes you want to roll on it. Just thank him for this, for that, for those, for everything. 

Evening comes with it’s wind  blowing cold and dry. You join mother in the kitchen. She is fasting and looks frail so you offer to assist her taste the food. ” too much obuu in the moi-moi, maami”..”the meat is fine. Can I finish the whole piece? ” . Well. You like your new job. 

00:01 AM,  01/01/2017:
Everwhere is agog. Free hugs and plenty banter. You look at your watch. You made it too and you can’t believe it. Then You say those words again “And he shall be like a tree planted by the river side…..”

    

Manuel Ezra.

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