Note: SOLITARY is a series I am currently working on. It is based on a true story narrated to me by the lonesome described in the story. I will try to tell it till the end, and I hope you follow it. Enjoy!
⇒Allow me tell you a tale…
It could be yours just as it is mine. It is certain we all didn’t fall from the sky into planet earth. We all have biological parents who brought us into this world, be it in a right or wrong manner. You may not have seen them or probably didn’t get the care and love deserved of them, but the good thing is they exist.
I decided to share this story because of my burning desire towards success. I also believe my background can’t keep my back to the ground. The mood of this story might be a sad one, but I am glad the end thereof will be a happy one.
I know you have a day you call your birthday. It’s always a happy day for you. You have loved ones especially family members and relatives who make this day special. You receive lots of gift, get a party full of fun, several messages in your inbox and many missed and received calls.
In my case, I don’t have such a life. My Date of Birth remains a mystery. The woman who gave birth to me didn’t see the date to be of significance. As a result she didn’t keep any record or trace to my birthday. I have grown into womanhood, celebrating a “birthday” on a date I picked for myself, without knowing my real age.
Unlike you my reader, no family member or relative of mine knows my actual birth date. The day I picked to celebrate my birthday is often only remembered by close friends who care, and the messages I get are only from Facebook friends.
Nevertheless, as sad as it may seem, it is indeed also preposterous that a mother will leave no trace to the birth date of a child she carried for nine months. Worse is it that she can’t recall it herself. The absurd reason to this pandemonium isn’t farfetched.
I happened to be the second child to a man who wasn’t the father of my elder sister and wasn’t even married to my mother. I was an unwanted foetus that refused to be flushed out. Obviously, since no one wanted me around, the information on my Date of Birth was too insignificant to store.
Growing without parents is a tough journey, let alone living without a real birth date. It’s as if you don’t even exist. It’s like that day you were born never came to pass. But that’s not important anyway. Age won’t give me success in life. As long as there is life, there is hope. I believe my life is special. Special because only God knows when I was born, only He knows when I will accomplish his works here on earth and He alone knows when I will leave this earth.
Copyright © 2017 by Hope Emmanuel. All rights reserved