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|The Angel Of Paris by kunlesehan(m): 10:12pm On May 23, 2018|
My friend should be called - The Angel of Paris.
Never have I seen a being created by God so generous of self, spirit, love and resources.
And then to behold how blessed she is with a wondrously loving family and incredibly smart and well behaved kids was something heartwarming.
It made you say.
'Sometimes life gets it right. It judiciously rewards the deserving."
So she picks me up from the airport at 6am in the morning.
Takes me to the hostel fusing that I should have stayed at her house.
Then she takes my two 'yuge' boxes to her house while leaving my carry on with fresh change of clothes and toiletries, insisting it was safer that way.
Then she sends an Uber to pick me up and drop me off after a sumptuous dinner at her home.
Where I first met her Filipino maid and Portuguese caretaker and groundskeeper.
Before I met her incredibly intelligent and passionate husband and her marvelously precocious daughter.
After they returned from riding their bicycles around the neighborhood.
Father and daughter bonding.
Then we sat down and ate a delicious dinner prepared fullheartedly and solely by friend.
Her maid simply looked on.
Jollof rice, Dodo, roasted chickens, peppered stew filled with orishirishi, watermelons and orange juice.
After we ate.
And I found out that her daughter had read my book - Didi kanu and the Singing Dwarfs of the North.
I had autographed a copy and sent to her 2 years ago.
And she had read it 4 times.
She quoted copiously from the book.
Asked me the most incisive and intelligent questions about the book and my writing in general that simply left me in awe.
To watch my friend and her husband look at their daughter with such pride.
In their silence you could hear their thoughts gush out pleasantly.
"We did well. Thank you Father for giving us the wisdom, patience, love and diligence to have raised her right."
It was pure bliss.
And then her daughter said she wants to be an actor.
And I asked her to read an excerpt from my book with a British accent and then a Nigerian accent.
She bravely did so.
And as her words fell on my mesmerized ears.
I fell in love with her.
Over and over again.
She is nine years old and already has a library.
Of books her parents encourage her to read.
At the end of her reading her mother said to her.
"Okay hon. Its time for bed."
Her daughter stood up and walked to her dad.
"Goodnight Daddy, I love you."
"I love you too............ Sleep well."
She went to my friend.
"Goodnight mama. I love you."
"I love you too Darling. Set your alarm for 6.45am."
And she turned to me.
"Goodnight Uncle Jude. Thanks for writing such a beautiful book. When you make it into a film, because it will make a fantastic film, please remember that I want to play Didi Kanu."
"Goodnight ...... I'll remember that."
And she ran off, book in hand.
I turned to her parents.
Both smiling broadly.
And just as we were about to speak, her daugjter returned.
"So sorry but I forgot to ask one question."
She opened the book to the foreword page and read the words I had written.
"May we dream, dreams and may all our dreams not come true."
Then she looked up at me and asked.
"Was that a typo?"
"Why shouldn't our dreams not come true?"
"You have nightmares?"
"Yes I do."
"Are nightmares dreams?"
Her eyes brightened.
And she laughed.
"Now I get it. You are such a brilliant writer Uncle Jude. okay now this is a real good night. Good night everyone."
And she skipped away.
Great children are not born, they are diligently raised in love, with love and by love.
I am a witness.
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