LOVE REGRETS AND DISAPPOINTMENTS: EPISODE 1.
In Glasgow, life in the villages was a communal affair. Everyone knew and cared for everyone. I shall be sixty-three next month. My story was a simple one yet the most intriguing. At seventeen, I fell in love with a fella called simply as Mike. My father gave me a nice beautiful wedding dress as a present. My mum did my hair. I could still see the ribbons on my head in my mind’s eye. Oh. Lord, take care of my Mike wherever he is. Mike, wherever you are remember me. I can still hear the wedding marching songs in my head as we marched down the aisle hand in hand with the villagers sharing our joy. After the marriage I joined Mike in their household. The members received me with warm heart. In the second year of our marriage, and with a baby son, Mike claimed the economy of the village was broken. He, therefore, wanted to move to London as most of the villagers did at the time. Pleasant stories were told about life in London. Some even claimed paper money scared on the streets by the rich for the poor to pick. It was these illusive stories that trapped my Mike. In fact, I also had nice mental picture of the street and beautiful decorations words could not explain. Mike, wherever you are, do not forget us. Mike, you promised you would come and take us. We are still waiting. It is more than forty years now. I want you to share the joy of our son who has become a man. When Mike left he regularly sent us money for our upkeep. In the fifth year of Mike’s departure he ceased to communicate or send us money completely. I have learnt to take care of myself and my little son. My dad supported me. The years went by, Mike did not return to take care of I and my son. In fact, my son is a man now. It was forty years since Mike left. His father on his dying bed had left some money for me to travel to London to look for my Mike so that my happiness would be completed, but how could go to London looking for Mike without any contact address or number? I was forced to move back to my parents. Many of the men approached me for my hand in marriage, but I thought if the first did not work the second may not. I rather wait for my Mike. At forty my father died. His last words were, “My daughter I wish you happiness.” I do not know what happiness was, the lonely nights, the village gossip, the fabricated stories purported to have come from London. Days spent without money. The only thing that carried me through the years was the memory of Mike, his lovely and charming looks. Lord, I do pray, take care of him for me. We knew each other when we were babies. I remembered the summer days when the boys and girls from the village went out to catch crabs. Mike made sure I had enough to carry home. We laughed, played and splashed the cold water on each other. It was a joyous moment to cherish. Members of his family were so nice to me. Mike came to my house to take me to school everyday. Hand in hand, we sang lovely school hymns as we went to school. When school was over, he escorted me home everyday. The other girls envied our love. The villagers referred to us as Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. I was so happy being in love with Mike. He did everything to make my happiness complete. My father told me I was too young to speak the language of love, mum supported me that made me happy and strong enough to be able to survive the anger of my dad.
When Mike’s folks came to ask for my hand in marriage all that my dad said was he wished me happiness. This had been some sort of recital for him. Most times when I visited during Mike’s absence, when I was leaving him, he saw me and my baby off. When he turned to go back he would say, “My daughter I wish you happiness.”
In the fifteenth year of our marriage, news came that some villagers had sighted Mike. He was happily married. They did not give any address. Mike’s parents approached me with the news which was common knowledge in the village. My simple response was whatever was holding Mike back, it would cease one day. He would then come for us. I do not want to betray his love for me. Our childhood memories that I cherished saw me through.
Today, I am over sixty and there was still no news of Mike, I wished I could see how he looked like when he was old. How strong he was when he was a man. I prayed he retained his smiles that cherished me when I was with him. Mike, wherever you are I still cherish the memories of our wedding day. I am still waiting for you to come. I am in the hope that we shall meet again in heaven where we shall be very happy and inseparable. We shall play and laugh all day as we did before. There would not be any care that would rob you from again. Mike, wherever you are remember me.