The woman she has to be

I felt my heart beat fast as the woman I called mum told me the story of my life. I still couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t even part of the family. My mind drifted, going back to the times I felt aunt tricia was being unfare to me, when she said ‘blood was thicker than water’ after I threatened to report her unfairness to my mum. I wondered if the reason my mum refused purchasing my graduation gown in Lagos was because I wasn’t her daughter. All these thought tugged at me and I felt like the world should just start all over again. You see, mum was someone that I admired not just because of the fact that everyone else did but because she was a go getter. She had been strong in places where every other woman her age would have collapsed. “Amaka”.. I heard my uncle call my name as I came back to reality. Looking at him I could see a bit of understanding in his eyes. Mum looked dissapointed “why is she crying?” She asked my uncle. The room suddenly felt so small and I needed air. Yes I needed to breath in air and exale all the pains, hurt and dissapointments at once. I rushed out of the room to the sitting room where I saw my uncles children staring at me. I wondered if they knew I was adopted, I wondered if they saw me as one of them. Christy looked up at me and asked ” are you okay? I blinked back tears before they could role out of my now sore eyes. ‘Yes’ I replied in a shaky voice. It wasn’t always that easy for me, always had one story or the other to tell. When you grow up all by yourself and suddenly realize you have a world to either fit into or just make a difference. I chose ‘make a difference’ I was never going to be the spectator , I was going to be a goddamn player, yes a player.