I wrote The Moon

When I was a bit younger and a bit foolish too — at six or thereabout, I wrote to the moon the umpteenth time:

“Hey moon! If this letter gets to you; kindly tell me, in few lines, why you’ve been on my trail these nights. I know I’m special, right? But, you following me around is out of it.”

After writing, I’d tuck my letter between one of Mama’s malimbe’s feather, release it from its cage and send it flying to the moon — my spook.

How smart I was!

I would then wait for the moon to write me back, but she didn’t — she never did.

One night under a keen full moon, I turned to Mama, “Mama, what’s so special about me that the moon keeps following me about?”

Mama took my question for a funny one. I watched a guffaw tug her crinkled lips. After taking bouts of boisterous laughter, she finally told me:

“Nna, you indeed are special — very special in my doting eyes. But you see, the moon is a celestial body. And I don’t think any sensible Moon would care about how special any of us are. Hers is to light our paths on Earth. That’s why she lights you everywhere and follows you everywhere you go.”

Despite that I didn’t quite agree with Mama’s analogy, I nodded intermittently.

“Ohh.. Mama, Isn’t that why MTN adverts read ‘everywhere you go’ and isn’t that why they always branded in yellow like the Moon?,” I asked her again.

This time she didn’t get cracked up, instead she patted me on my shoulders and I felt ever so special.

( moon blacks out )