dear diary
This week ends with a note of finality. Commands given, enemies made. Grandma leaves but greater trouble lies ahead.
        As usual, grandma did not cease to complain. Almost every night mum went to bed in tears. Mum who thought she was used to this, was left defenseless as grandma's words had become a sharper edge slicing through the walls she had built to ward off the hurt. The excited, chatty Mum we knew became gravely mute. Mama princess was concerned and was annoyingly inquisitive as to why Mum was quiet. Well, that didn't change anything.
         On Thursday, she gave up and asked me instead. Though, i felt important, I couldn't tell her. Since mum had her unsaid reasons that kept her quiet on the issue which was so unlike her, I had to respect her decision.
           Besides grandmother's bunch of terrible acts, her hypocrisy was incomparable. Whenever dad was home, she became the nicest woman on earth. Her pretentiousness once made me doubt that the fact that she is mean.
         Well, bad brought good yesterday when daddy returned from work very hungry, he found mum crying bitterly. Grandma poured away my mum's pot of soup, giving the excuse that the ugu she sliced in it was too much. She accused mum of treating her like a goat, giving her leaves to eat. This incident wouldn't have hurt so much if that pot of soup wasn't the last option at home that Wednesday evening. Mum had collected some money from her savings to prepare the meal and was yet to pay Mama Princess for the fish in it. I knew grandma never wanted her son to marry mum but this time she was taking it too far.
       That evening, dad quietly packed her things and ushered her to the noisy park.
She pleaded but he didn't listen, she faked some tears too but Dad didn't see them.
        As I write, Grandma has gone and there is peace at home but I know that it's not same in the village; soon, we will hear that. But before then, I close my eyes and let the night breeze sing me a lullaby, I hope I will understand its lyrics in my dream.

Your friend,

©Opetu Ebibote


  1. I've been reading ur poems. They are quite Good. This diary note, is it a work of fiction?

    1. Thanks for reading the poems. I hope you enjoy them. Well, this diary note is purely fictional.