How Do You Say Goodbye?
She's really gone. I cannot believe it. It's been 5 long years of closeness, and I saw her almost everyday!
She was with me when one reckless lorry driver ran into us because he had no brakes. She came out slightly bruised and I badly shaken.
She was there when I gave rides to the German film crew, the Endemol team, Uncle Olu Jacobs, Aunty Taiwo Ajai Lycet, and so on.
She suffered with me through Aunty Bisi's maniacal driving, through those early mornings when we went seeking interviews with victims of human rights violations, through the different indifferent 'boyfriends', through my struggle for survival and unemployment.
I remember when Daddy met her he wept with joy, happy at his daughter's maturity.
And now she's gone. I know I let her go but it was reluctantly. I knew she had passed her prime, and was becoming more of a burden. I watched as strangers opened her up and rummaged through her insides, inspecting her almost disrespectfully. But I couldn't stop them. I had been blinded by riches and my aspirations for the future.
Then, in a flash, she was gone.
As she was taken away I ran inside the house. Not because I did not want to see her go, but because I did not want them to find me there if they changed their minds. And now, at home, with my head clear , I miss her. But it was time to let her go.
So this is for you, Nadine the Nissan. You were more than a car, you were my companion. I miss you.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN
She was with me when one reckless lorry driver ran into us because he had no brakes. She came out slightly bruised and I badly shaken.
She was there when I gave rides to the German film crew, the Endemol team, Uncle Olu Jacobs, Aunty Taiwo Ajai Lycet, and so on.
She suffered with me through Aunty Bisi's maniacal driving, through those early mornings when we went seeking interviews with victims of human rights violations, through the different indifferent 'boyfriends', through my struggle for survival and unemployment.
I remember when Daddy met her he wept with joy, happy at his daughter's maturity.
And now she's gone. I know I let her go but it was reluctantly. I knew she had passed her prime, and was becoming more of a burden. I watched as strangers opened her up and rummaged through her insides, inspecting her almost disrespectfully. But I couldn't stop them. I had been blinded by riches and my aspirations for the future.
Then, in a flash, she was gone.
As she was taken away I ran inside the house. Not because I did not want to see her go, but because I did not want them to find me there if they changed their minds. And now, at home, with my head clear , I miss her. But it was time to let her go.
So this is for you, Nadine the Nissan. You were more than a car, you were my companion. I miss you.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN
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