MY CALL

Today happens to be one of the few days I feel like going on skirts. As I laced my shoes, I saw a scar on my leg. I got the scar the very first time I decided to take a bike (popularly known as okada where I come from) Memories of that day flooded my mind. I recall my dad shouting his head off over the act. He didn’t seem to understand why I’d take a bike. Memory of that incidence took my mind back to time before now. Times when my dad was responsible for me (so to speak). Times when practically everything about me was his call. It was his to ensure I was healthy. It was his call to ensure I had enough to eat. It was his call to ensure I got into school. It was his call to ensure my bills were paid. It was his call to ensure I was protected from all the necessary viles. It was his call that I was properly taken care of. It was his call that things go as planned. His opinion on my choices was largely influential. He had a say on and in everything. And suddenly it was no longer his call. It became mine. Solely mine. I became responsible for my life. I became responsible for my actions. My life became my call. My life became mine. I become responsible for my choices and decisions. My life has become my call. With its consequences!