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Boyhood Memoirs

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"They have hoped for life’s good gains...have found as old men find. And now they bow their heads like drenched men from the rains'', wrote Armattoe. As a kid, progressed to a naughty, each time I thought I had become wiser than before. Maybe I was right. Mum would beat the mistakes I was content to make out of me. Though the blunders I could make only served as a platform to aggravate my inner fears, I was most certain of the extent the retribution would go; I would cry my tears dry, shout my temples hoarse or rub my limbs sore...but mum just wouldn't listen.

Even when I swore the world over in the name of begging for clemency. Thanks to her whips, today I live with the notion that with each venture I am on I accept the outcome no matter what may. Grandma would talk of tales that were captivating and worth listening to. She wouldn't cease even when every other cousin had fallen asleep by the warmth of the embers and her delivery reduced to some superfluous monologue. Metaphorically, she would talk of the pale blue moon in the middle of a starry sky, how it gave a lone sojourner the confidence to trudge onward at night.

I’ve grown up to expound on her lines of thought from a different perspective altogether. Let the light in you illuminate for a good course to humanity-she meant well as was facile simple. I remember vividly the girl I first loved at that tender age. Occasionally she would gown a flimsy dress and I would yearn for her. In the event that she came calling to my place, my heart would throb and the lymphatic system would go jiffy. Boyhood memoirs. Now that I've found my footing, those memories flash by poignantly recall of the boyhood fights often baptized 'when push turns to shove' and imagine how it was simple to make foes than friends. Friendship was that proverbial house built on sand. Conversely it could be swept away easily as it came by. Those moments are worth recalling!

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