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A Good Day To Love - Literature - Nairaland

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A Good Day To Love by Sommypan(m): 4:08pm On Feb 14
Dear Favour,

The first time I saw you, nine years ago, my heart skipped a beat. It was both painful and shocking, and I couldn't analyze what I was feeling because I was young—barely twelve years old. But I was perfectly sure of one thing: you were special, quite unlike any girl I've met before; I knew that I would forever be hooked to you.

The first time I saw you was in primary five; I was sitting with my best friend, Kene, and as you marched past us (you've always walked in that manner, as if you are always in a hurry), I'd commented on your beauty to him. He had chuckled and said that you were in his class. I'd been thrilled, and a little bit disappointed. I was thrilled because you were in a class I could easily go to anytime to see you, and disappointed because of the same reason: Kene was a good charmer, and I was jealous that he would get your attention.

But strangely though, Kene seemed not to be interested in you, and buoyed by that, I came to your class more often. Did you ever notice that anytime I came to visit Kene, I would always stare at you, barely listening to whatever my friend was saying? Of course not. What was I even thinking? You are a goddess, and mere mortals like us pass without your notice. And how could I have competed with the boys in primary six who were vying for your attention as though you held their destinies in your palms?

I was stuck on how to approach you, to tell you that although I was twelve, I was madly in love with you and would always be. And just when I thought I had no hope, Fate gave me some dose of good luck—in primary six we became classmates, and as if that was not enough, we sat in the same seat, me and you, all alone in one seat.

I will never forget my primary six because it was a class that showed me my future, and helped me realize that I was meant to love you. Only you.

Gradually, we became friends, and it was as if I was living in the Garden of Eden, where everything is good. I, who before I met you, didn't like going to school, was now counting the hours before I would see you again whenever I got home. Monday became my favourite day and Friday my worst. You were the reason I came to school in primary six. Don't tell my parents.

Do you remember the first time I told you that I loved you? I had battled with that decision for days—weeks even—before I finally mustered the courage to let my feelings known to you. And no, my courage wasn't that strong to confess my feelings to your face. So I had written you a note, with the words 'I LOVE YOU, FAVOUR' in bold letters on the sheet of paper. Then I had slotted it inside your bag, where you normally kept your pen. When you came back from break, you saw the note, and when you asked me if I wrote it (although you saw where I signed my name), I was momentarily hit by a fear so great and intense that I had wanted to balk. In that one second it took me to nod my head, I had feared that you would show our class teacher the note. Yet I found my neck jerking my head up and down in affirmation of what you asked.


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