Short Story: Season of changes

We were old enough to seek our warmth elsewhere!

The change in season was a pleasant feeling; mornings blew by, cold and humid, leaving us shivering in our beds.

We loved the harmattan. Mornings blew by, cold and humid, and left us shivering in our beds. The change in season was a pleasant feeling; the cold air luring us deeper and deeper into sleep's trap.

We were also bitter on the days when we had to wake up early. Sometimes, it was colder because one of us wet the bed. By then, the large duvet the three of us shared was no longer enough to assuage the cold. Softly, we would tread in a straight line to their room.

Their large feet would peek out from beneath the duvet and sometimes, they were entwined as though they sought the same warmth we had come to look for. His feet were long and broad while hers were short and narrow. Some days, they were sound asleep and we would creep in silently and join them. They could always sense our presence and she would hiss in her sleep as if to say we were disturbing her. He never complained when we joined them.

Silently, he would roll over to create space for us, ignoring our happy little giggles while smiling in his sleep. She, on the other hand, would grumble silently but we never let it bother us. We knew she loved us. On other days, they would be awake, speaking conspiratorially, all bushy tailed. They would receive us with smiles and tuck us in with them. Then, we would sleep again and wake up to a sumptuous meal.

When he died, it was terrible for us all. We could see his large feet in the coffin and it was still the same. So, we never fully understood what had happened. The next morning, we did. We were taken to Grandma's house but Grandma wasn't one for warmth so we went from there to Aunty's house.

Aunty liked warmth but she only gave warmth to her son. We would peek from the door, hoping she would call us in but she never did. Life seemed harder now. We were happy when we went back home and she seemed happy to see us too.

 

At first, we thought things would go back to the way they were but they never did. Change, for us, was permanent and the harmattan season was never the same. Whenever we crawled into bed with her, she wouldn't grumble or receive us with smiles. She would smell of something foul and she never woke up until 2...sometimes later. The hurt cut deeper than the hunger that descended on us.

Then, it happened. She was finally smiling again for the first time in several months. She would call us and tell us stories while we wrapped our little limbs around her. We never learnt our lesson that nothing in life is permanent so we plunged headlong, expecting it to remain the same.

One morning, we went in to her room. We found something strange - another pair of feet. It wasn't rough like his neither was it broad. It was smooth like a baby's and quite stout. It seemed wrong especially when her feet were entwined around this strange feet.

They didn't notice us for a while because they were busy making strange noises we couldn't decipher. When they did, the strange man asked us to join them while she looked at us with a weird expression of satisfaction. We didn't know what to do so we ran. Even when he called after us, we ran and we heard her saying he shouldn't bother.

As we got into our room, we locked the door for the first time, held ourselves and cried. Being triplets, we could feel the pain of the others. We therefore vowed never to go seeking for warmth again especially with the strange man whom we didn't trust.

She asked us, the next day, why we didn't come to her room that morning. We replied that we are old enough to seek our warmth elsewhere. She then said that we were as stupid as our dead father.

Written by Oyeleye Ooreofeoluwa.

Oyeleye Ooreofeoluwa is an avid reader, a music lover and a Lawyer in the making. Born in the 90’s , she hopes to leave footprints in the sands of time.

Wordpress – theblackwordsmith.wordpress.com

Email – articulture99@gmail.com

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