African StoriesLife and General Fiction StoriesNaija Stories

My Mother

While I was young, I lived upon my mother’s care. Vividly, I could remember the day I took this picture of hers. The peace surrounding her was serene. And there was a simple brightness about her that some people took for confidence and others for innocence. I had taken that picture while she was cooking. She was oblivious of it.

Till now, this picture would always remind me of her sense of family loyalty, which was very powerful. Since father died, she has been the only one catering for both of us. I had no siblings. She was an amazing woman. Headstrong. Independent. And full of her own ideas.

The day she died, cold rain fell in sheets from the dark sky. I was alone.

The house felt empty. I felt her absence greatly. But her love and priceless care still lingeres round the house. While I sat here staring at her picture, her last words to me came flowing back. She had said, “No matter what happens, hold unto love and live a peaceful life.”

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