Speaking of wars, worriors and heroes, there are huge global pandemics,
Also, there are the national crises, like the 'starving' Kenyan economy-speaking from a typical comrade's point of view,
And then, there are the 'huge' little battles, like sibling rivalry.
So today, much gratitude goes to my sisters for surviving my tantrums,
Thumbs up to my brothers for fighting off relentless boys that buoyed and cocked like roosters around their sisters,
Much love to Mommy, sometimes,she never touched her plate until she ensured that we were full to the brim,
She would make tea, and light up the fire place, she ensured we were warm when it was cold,
She would wake up at dusk and make breakfast for us while we still clung to the hems of our blankets, "The sun is not yet out you Know, it's still cold outside." My sister or I, would whisper in-between the sheets of how we dreaded the dew in the grass. We actually kind of took turns to express the dread daily.
Now,I really miss her pancakes.
Now my dad, much respect goes to Paps for foregoing that designer shirt or suit to pay my rent and refill empty gas cylinders ,
For believing in me and my future much as to invest in my career and support my dreams,
He's such a 'pillar' of a father, so 'solid'.
I fete family, always,
They're the home I run to when we I'm whole and most importantly, when I'm in pieces.
The consistency of family is unmatched, in celebrations and in grief,
And in the knowledge of the worst and best of us, the twinkle in a kinsman's eye remains genuine.
Family is the flow in my veins, it is the rhythm in my arteries.
© Scolar,