Five-Minute Walk

Photo by Jorge Vasconez on Unsplash

Sunny morning.

Walking back from my children’s school. It’s a five-minute walk and that is a blessing, because when you live in Lagos, Nigeria, anything that helps you avoid Lagos traffic deserves thanksgiving to the high heavens.

As I am about to cross the road, it dawns on me that I have eyes to see both sides of it — to know how far or near a vehicle is.

I can hear the roar of car engines, just in case my mind plays tricks on me and I don’t gauge accurately how fast a car is moving.

I can smell. So I know the scents of flowers, or I can walk quickly past the refuse truck to avoid its stench.

And yes, I walk unaided, without a limp, but maybe with a slight bounce — I have refused to let go of my tomboy traits.

Both of my arms are swinging by my side, and I can speak properly, no slurs, no stutters, as I call out greetings to my neighbours.

What’s more, I was able to wake up this morning, to feel the sun on my skin. I could walk out of my room and down the stairs.

I am alive. I can breathe.

In the midst of the madness that everyday life can bring, just take a look at yourself and let gratitude soak in.

Take a deep breath, and as you exhale slowly, realise that you did so without difficulty, without the aid of a machine.

What’s that hymn again? Yes…”Count your blessings” written by Johnson Oatman Jr. in 1897.

Sometimes, we need to just stop and be thankful for the little things.



Love to read, love to write

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