How We Met (I Got Tired of Church.)

Dear Unborn Children,

A few days ago on the 1095th day of your father and I knowing each other, I began telling you the story of how it all started. I had to make it short as I didn’t want to bore you with all those tiny details. Apparently, your curiosity has gotten the best of you as well as other aunties and uncles who have read my letters to you behind your back. (Adults these days, I tell ya!)
I digress.
See, when your father and I met, I didn’t think we would go beyond being friends. On the surface, he fit the perfect picture of a player. I wasn’t about to get my heart played and dumped like used diaper. I had to thread carefully.

This card was among surprise gifts he gave me on our first Valentine’s Day together. Inside, he referred to me as his Future Mrs. Man, dude was seeing way into the future already.

Even as I moved with caution, your father was so intriguing: our conversations were really good. We could go for hours just chatting about nothing and anything. Hardly an hour went by without some kind of communication. (I’m sure he’ll remember when

Somewhere In The Middle. (A Year Back to Nigeria)

It’s exactly 366 days since I returned to Nigeria.

A few days ago, the Nigerian Husband and I laid on a blanket on the bare living room floor relaxing and he goes, “ So when was the last time you blogged?”
That got me thinking and hit me that I had actually let go of my love for writing. That question asked tactfully, birthed this blog post. You guys have this good man to thank.

Three hundred and ninety three days ago, my life changed.

See, before Hurricane Irma, my life in the Virgin Islands was pretty simple and chill: I woke up at about 7:30 a.m. to prepare for work and then leave for town with my

Grateful Saturdays.

And there’s a lovely cup of tea because usually such photos are used in reflective posts! Haha.

Every now and then, i cancel out the world and just get into some deep zone of gratefulness.

Today, August 29 is one of such days.

I woke up