LETTER TO A THREE YEAR OLD BOY

Picture Courtesy: www. aperfectworld.org


We met over twenty years ago,
Back when disco was in vogue
And it was a fever all the grown folk
Seemed to have caught somehow.
You had a fro,
Your curly hair,
Was black like that of a raven.


All you did was play in the sand,
Run after butterflies
Eat from dusk till dawn
And sleep whenever you wished.
It was all pretty routine for you back then,
Eat
Sleep and
Play all day long.

You do not quite remember me,
Do not pretend you do,
But I remember you very well,
I always watched you from afar,
If you had bothered look past the fence
And into the leaves of the mango tree,
You just might have seen me there,
Then again,
I just might have taken to my heels,
Had you ever done that.


I remember so many things about you,
You threw tantrums,
Never did as you were told,
Half the time,
You were either in trouble or fast asleep,
Never a dull moment with you around.


Of all the things you did back then,
I remember one vividly
Till this very day.
It was a sunny Monday morning,
You had your hair was combed neatly,
Shirt over a pair of black trousers
And your shoes were neatly laced and shiny.


I sat up there,
Wondering where you were off to,
Daddy and mummy sat in front,
You chose to sit behind,
For reasons best known to you
And they let you be,
For you threatened them with a tantrum,
Your mum buckled you in
And the car sped off,
I just followed like a cloud above.


After a long while,
Daddy brought the car to a stop
In front of a compound with swings,
Seesaws, a playing field
And a lot of buildings.
Mummy stepped out and took you along,
Daddy then left for work.

Your mum took your hand,
You both entered the compound,
She led you to a building,
It turned out to be an office of some sort,
There were three women seated behind a table,
Mummy exchanged pleasantries with them
And placed you in a seat positioned almost centrally,
Before them,
She then sat a bit further away from you,
You looked nervous
Kept looking in her direction
And begun rubbing your shoes against each other.
She kept signaling you to look at the three
Strangers seated behind the table.


When you eventually did,
They asked your name,
With all confidence,
You said,
Mr. Philip Ofori – Anom,
They all broke into laughter at that point,
Even mummy did,
They would have preferred you
Used the word master instead of mister,
After all,
You were only three years old back then.

Till this very day,
I’m yet to call myself anything other than,
Mr. Philip Ofori – Anom,
The very name you gave to those
Strangers you met in that room twenty years ago,
It was actually your interview for admission into school,
You aced it,
I’m sure you know that by now.


You came to mind today,
I just realized this much,
Over twenty years ago,
When you chose the word mister over master,
I’m yet to change mister to something else
I still go by mister today.
For that particular reason,
I write you this letter today,
I do know I have to change mister to something else,
For twenty years ago,
That was you,
I’m still on my way to doing that.


However,
I’ve left a lot of you behind,
I no longer pick my nose,
I’m less trouble now,
No more biting my finger nails,
I no longer wear a fro
And my hair’s slowly turning grey,
I’ve come a long way from when I was you.


I’ve done so many things,
Most of which I know you will be proud,
And quite a few you’d probably be
Wishing you had done back then,
I’m still on my way in this journey of ours,
You begun it so beautifully,
And I promise to end it spectacularly,
Such that you will applaud.


I won’t be mediocre,
Neither will I be supernova,
I’ll grace the stage for decades to come,
For in your time you shone like the sun,
Here’s my time,
I’ll be the moon and the sun,
24/7,
I’ll shine non-stop,
So please be patient,
I bidst you wait,
For the best of me is yet to come,
I’m not even half where I plan to be,
Go wait for me atop the mountain peak,
For there that is where I’ll take my rest,
There we’ll both sit,
Roasting marshmallows over the fire,
Throwing stones into the valley below,
And telling tales of our past,
Here’s my letter to you,
You were the three year old version of me,
Over twenty years ago.