Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

We tried to lose ourselves in the moment. With kids crying and all. One wanted juice. The purple juice reserved for those who often visit. The other wanted a phone, whether new or old it didn’t matter. Yet a third wanted ice-cream, vanilla, chocolate, anything will do. The time was exactly 6pm and my fourth wondered what it would be like to lose ourselves in the moment, the way everybody longs to be a tree. Life insists on being round or up and down, she said, so forget all the tears, and look, really look at where you stand, in the middle of the beautiful chaos called life. We looked. They are like the magic of snowfalls, with nothing to stop the color they bring. Why have children, one, two, three or four, if not to disturb the very moment you become air, life enormous and opulent, when you count your blessings, naming them one by one. For every moment of peace, every time of ease, every moment you awaken, or every time forsaken, life will constantly unravel you, unless you snap back and track your stars, your beautiful bright stars, touched by the wind and all. Keep them.