When three of my maternal cousins Sharon, Sonia, and Sarah came to spend the Christmas holidays with my family in Abuja for the first time, it didn’t take more than a moment for me to decide that Sarah was my favourite cousin of all. The three sisters lived in Lagos with their parents and the holidays were the first time I had ever seen them in the flesh. My siblings always spent time with them on their occasional visits to Lagos, and regaled me with stories of how fun they were. I had also seen enough pictures to know they were all pretty, but nothing prepared me for the thrill of seeing Sarah up close. At 23, she was the youngest of them and also younger than me by a year but she was by far the most beautiful of the trio, which was even more astonishing considering how beautiful her sisters were. Pictures did her no justice. Her soft shoulder-length hair framed her face and her brown shimmering eyes and small nose gave her a distinct asian semblance even though she wasn’t of mixed race. Her lovely dentition bolstered her smile multiple folds. She had a big apple b-vtt and even bigger br-3@sts that sat on her 5’7 frame, curvy h!ps, and thick th!ghs that dove into cezy well-toned legs. Her fair skin radiated with a glow that made it impossible for her to go unnoticed. She was conscious of the attention she commanded and she revelled in it. Her poise and carriage portrayed her as proud and standoffish and to a degree it was true. But she was also warm to those she loved, and a generally caring person. To top it off, she had a vibrant personality. She was naturally the funniest person in every room. We had a prolific partnership at card games. We ate together. She was my natural choice whenever I needed someone to accompany me to the mall on errands, and we would stroll the aisles hand in hand while I basked in the glorious attention that inevitably came with having the prettiest girl on my arm. I would intentionally invade her space in a romantic manner more usual for couples than relatives, and whisper something funny to her so we would laugh and jostle each other to seem more like lovers to the jealous onlookers. She always got right into it, her touches, looks, and gestures blending perfectly into character, almost as though she knew what I was up to and decided to play along. If she knew, she never showed it. If anything, it was the ease and natural flow of our connection that forced my first reflections on the possibility of us being something more. I wondered if I could have stood a chance with her if we didn’t share blood ties, or if she had warmed up to me so much only because we were family. Many girls considered me handsome and funny, but she had the kind of looks that chipped away one’s self-confidence. I had no idea whether to be thankful she was my cousin or feel cheated because of the boundaries it represented. Whatever my thoughts or hers were, they never progressed beyond spoon-feeding each other, cud-d|ing close together for movies, and holding hands at the mall.
Albeit, our time together created some of my fondest holiday memories and I was sad to see her go
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