“One day when the glory comes, it’ll be ours”.- John Legend for Selma
Father was telling me a story. A story he’d like to tell me too often.
“The years have swiftly rolled by and the leaves have fallen off the tree as a result of the end of spring. Summer didn’t come and neither did autumn. Winter came too soon and dried up all the leaves and killed all the greens. Winter wasn’t going to give us snow for our children to play with or for us to build little snowmen that would serve as friends for us.”
I asked father, “Why is it winter when it’s supposed to be summer?”
Father looked up, smiling at me, and then looked down at his paper with a frown. “My darling, what about the winter? You don’t like it?”
“No father. The winter has gone on for so long, there isn’t anything alive anymore and it’s always cold and I am tired of feeling so cold”. Father’s reply to my complaint made me realize that sometimes the most beautiful things take the most time.
“My daughter, when all things are dead and gone, new life would always spring out, and in most cases, it’s always the latest bloomers that turn out to be the most beautiful of all”. He heaved heavily then continued. “Our country Nigeria is a work in progress and therefore I’d rather we cry, feel cold and wait in hope and anticipation because tomorrow would always come and when she does, she wants to take us by surprise and show us that sometimes the white skies makes the day clearer than the blue skies.”
Happy Independence Nigeria, keep striving.