“Eden, why haven’t you packed all the clothes I washed this morning from the clothesline?” my mother called angrily from the kitchen. “I am sorry ma, I will go get them now,” I replied in a solemn voice. “You better do, I am not training you to take this lackadaisical attitude of yours to your husband’s house, nonsense!” she replied.

I walk outside in the most sluggish manner to retrieve the clothes. Then I realize it’s dark already. Just as I am about picking the clothes, I look up at the sky and began to feel the calmness up there instantaneously. For the umpteenth time, I wish my life could be as calm as the sky. I can’t stop wishing for a better life. Everyone assumes I am ok but I am not.

I am at least sure of who I am and what I want. But getting what I want is the real problem here. It’s so tiring in my parent’s house. My parents gave birth to just two of us, my brother and I. It’s so unfortunate I came as a girl and the first child. I do most of the running around in the house. “Eden, help me with my glasses by my bedside”, “ Eden, check if your brother is ready for school”, “Eden, have your brother finished his homework”, “Eden, come help me in the kitchen”, “Eden, why is your room this messy?” “Eden, can you help me set the table? “Eden, why didn’t you wash the dirty plates? Eden this, Eden that, is all I hear all day long. Jeez…I am so tired.

Sometimes I complain to my mother about how tiring the housework is. Every time she tells me to shut up and that she is training me. Sometimes I wonder what she’s training me for — to be independent or to be a good wife? It should be the latter since she always correcting me saying, “I don’t want you to take your lackadaisical attitude to your husband’s house.”

I don’t even wish to marry. My mother lives the life of a slave and my father, the life of a king. If this is what marriage is all about, I will rather not marry. He is always complaining about my mother being dumb or not good enough at doing things around the house. My mother always responds by apologizing. My father doesn’t help out around the house. He has everything done for him by my mother. But he pays the bills. That’s what mother says after all.

I will be eighteen next year. I will be finally free. Maybe this time, my parents will allow me to move to the school hostel on campus instead of coming from home to school. I will go on excursions, explore new sites, meet new people, and live the life I want. I will begin earning money and make sure I never return to live in this house anymore.

My mother has chosen to live in bitterness. She is never happy. She cries sometimes even though she pretends not to. My father is the one living the life. Maybe some people are happy when other people slave for them. And my brother, he will choose his path eventually. Maybe he will choose my path. But I can’t wait to leave. I can’t wait to taste real freedom.

“Eden! Do you want to sleep there?” my mother’s call jolts me back to reality. I hurriedly pack the clothes with a big smile on my face. Soon, I will be free and live in Eden as my name implies!


Like what you just read? Don’t be miserly with your claps. https://medium.com/latoya-the-victorious-ones-write/edens-wish-for-freedom-a7eea553cc6c