Cold
It was certainly an ordinary day. A cool, breezy evening that subtly held peace in its wake. Although unspoken, no one should pick a fight on such a fine day. Children were writing home-works in their homes and some others who were done helped their mothers with evening chores or just played the 'laka-n-laka' game amongst themselves. The sound of their laughter could warm any heart.
Regardless, there was someone who would not take a hint from the weather. Bode headed for his best friend Lade's house, fuming with rage. He approached her house, muttering curses under his breath and subtly hoping her parents were not home. He knocked twice on the front door before she opened and ushered him in.
It didn't take a seer to notice the problem in his mood. He walked in angrily, ignoring her efforts to welcome him as if he had just found out she was sleeping with his father. She had known him for three years and knew him to be one to lose his top over adding two and not one spoon of sugar to his tea. Once, he barged into her house because a neighbour's newborn kept crying. It would be no surprise if he was currently angry because the rice he bought for lunch was a bit overcooked.
"Bode, is there a problem?" she asked carefully, discreetly rolling her eyes, letting out a small sigh, and closing the door.
He sat on one of the sofas, continuously tapping his feet on the tiled floor, typical of his demonstration of irritation or anger. She simply watched him from where she stood, her back against the closed door with folded arms.
"Is it not that man? That old man!" he spat exasperatedly. Lade sighed knowingly and shook her head discreetly. 'What has the poor man done to you this time?' she asked as she walked to sit on the sofa next to him.
"Poor man? Did you just say, Poor man? Poor man my foot, Lade!" he exclaimed. 'That your “supposed” poor man is showing me hell in that house, Lade!' he growled.
"Bode, calm down now. The man does not want to be like he is either. It's his age, and you will grow to be like that someday. Would you like it if your grandchild treats you like this?" Lade asked softly, ignoring his dagger-shooting eyes.
"Lade, don't ever say that to me again. You and I know I can never grow to be like that. Look at me! I can and will never be such a burden to my grandchildren," he lashed out as he got off the sofa, flexing his muscles.
"Bode! Don't ever say that. That man took care of you when your parents abandoned you! He provided for you, clothed you, and sheltered you. He is the grandparent everyone wants to have. Now that he needs you the most, do you want to be an ingrate? What is your problem, Bode?" Lade yelled in annoyance.
Bode was immature, selfish, and ungrateful. From her perspective, he was almost treading the same path as his birth father. After his mother died bearing him, his father left him with his grandfather and fled. Everyone knew the story. She hoped he would learn before it was too late.
He stared down at her for a few seconds before making for the door angrily. Lade knew better than trying to stop him in that mood and even if she didn't, she had no intentions to. Someone needed to help him see the truth and that was her role as his best friend.
He made his way back home, burning with even more anger. Lade had disappointed him; he felt she would understand and would not be like the others who criticized and judged him. None of them knew what it took to take care of that old coot. None of them did!
He approached his compound, and as usual, there were several people gathered in front of the house with his half-blind grandfather feeding them with what they referred to as 'wisdom' born from his 'who knows if they are true experiences'.
He couldn't even do a thing by himself, yet people listened to him. He could speak from dawn until dusk but could not even make a move without someone helping him. Bode had to bathe him, make his meals, dispose of his urine, help him pass feces, feed him, brush his teeth, and help him out with several other things. He was not given a chance to be youthful because he had to take care of him. He could only be out whenever people were gathered to listen to the old man, like they were now.
"Someday, sometime... we shall understand why today was meant to be," his grandfather's strained voice rang through the compound.
Bode stormed into the compound without uttering greetings to anyone in the small crowd. He was going to walk past when his grandfather asked, "Is that you, Bode, my son?"
Bode hesitated for a few seconds before hissing and leaving abruptly, but not without noticing the hurt on the face of the old man. Immediately, guilt washed him over, but he was too busy getting angry to give it much thought.
He headed straight for his room and locked the door. He went towards his window and closed the curtains without caring about what happened to his grandfather that night. If the people who loved to listen to his wise sayings did not take care of him, then let him stay outside! He cared less. How would a man who is known for so much wisdom be so useless? He closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.
In the morning, Bode woke up with an aching body. He yawned loudly and tried to shift positions in bed but could hardly do any of that because of the body aches. Dreamily, he tried standing up but found it difficult to get on his feet. He could almost hear his bones crack.
He sighed stressfully, flickering his eyes open. However, they were blurry and felt like they sagged. What in God's name had happened to him? Slowly, he tried to get off the bed but as soon as he lifted himself off the bed, he fell back with a thud, an excruciating pain overwhelming his body. He winced out loud. Ask him about feeling like a hundred years and he will give details. Just then, someone came in through the door. He looked up and there he was standing right in front of him, trying to get him up!
"Who are you and why do you look so much like me?" Bode shot at this person, forgetting the pain hitting his body.
Now that he was thinking about it, this was his grandfather's voice. He looked at his skin; it was creased and wrinkled. He now looked like his grandfather. What had happened to him? He managed to grab a mirror placed on the stool next to his bed and examine his face. He dragged his hands over his face and body in disbelief. All his hair was gray, his eyes were sunken, his skin was all creased and his frame was small.
He looked up at his 'once upon a time' look-alike who was now standing, checking himself out too. They shared a look and immediately they understood they had switched bodies. He yelled with all his might, but his voice was not loud enough since his body condition was frail.
"Baba?" Bode called feebly, desperately wanting to believe that all of that had not just happened.
"Hmm?" his grandfather responded, standing, with an utterly confused expression written over his face.
They stared at each other strangely until Bode started to cough. Baba ran out and came in again with a glass of water. He patted Bode's back as he sipped from it. He finally got to calm down and his grandfather guided him gently to sit well with his back against the bedrest. Guilt washed Bode over; he would have yelled endlessly at his grandfather if he had to wake up so early to help him like his grandfather was doing.
"But, why... why am I...?" Bode trailed off in confusion as he looked at his frail and wrinkled body. He felt as though he would die at any moment.
"I do not know either Bode; all this is so strange to me," his grandfather responded.
"What are we going to do, baba? I cannot live my life stuck in an old body forever. I have barely started my life, Bode cried feebly.
"I do not know Bode; I have only seen this in movies," Baba replied, settling on the bed next to Bode and they both laughed.
"I look so sickly," Baba commented, looking all over Bode intensely.
"You mean to say that 'I' look sickly?" Bode corrected with a small smile hovering around his lips. His grandpa laughed. It felt so nice to see his grandfather laugh, although he really would have liked to say otherwise. It had been so long since he had a good laugh with his grandfather, and he only just realized he missed those memorable times.
"…and feel so weak," Bode added softly. They were both silent, staring at the wall before them as if it carried the answers.
"It isn't such a nice thing to feel so useless, being a burden to everyone else, you know? At times, I wish I could just die," Baba said quietly.
Bode looked at his agile-looking grandfather with instant regret washing through him. He would give anything to turn back time and be better. Anyone could be in his old man's shoes, even himself eventually. Not everyone is offered the gift of old age but when you are, it becomes a reflection of the kind of life you have lived. It was obvious why his old man was like that. When he was supposed to quietly live off his pension, he suddenly landed a toddler to take care of. Baba's son left his old man a burden and fled to start a new life. No one has ever seen him since. Every time Baba looked at his toddler grandson, he felt sorry and responsible for depriving him of parental care. If only he brought up his son well. The feeling would not wear off, regardless of the number of people who told him that children would always choose their paths. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you have deposited in them; adulthood in children is a coin with two sides. They always get to the crossroads where they are left to choose for themselves.
Baba worked hard. Hard enough to ease his guilt, if only a little bit, a consequence of his overly empathetic personality. He would always feel responsible for everything. He worked hard enough in his evening years to give his grandson the best life he could live growing up. The consequence of working hard in his late years is seen in his fast deteriorating health now.
"You know, I used to look like this too," his grandfather said again, easing the deafening silence. Bode looked over at him. "Young, agile, strong, and all. I used to work at a company. Shortly after I retired, I met you. For the love I grew to have for you, I worked so hard to give you the best," Baba spoke, smiling tightly at Bode.
Tears welled up in Bode's eyes. He didn't feel different from his own father now. If anything, he had proven to be even worse. Leaves truly don't fall far from their trees.
"And that’s why it hurts so much to know I cannot do anything for you again," he added, and this time, although he was looking so strong, his smile came off as weak.
His grandfather took his hand and stared into his eyes intently and lovingly, "I love you so much, Bode, more than you would ever know it."
This time, Bode burst out crying and was going to apologize, "I am so... "
Suddenly, someone was tapping his arm forcefully and a familiar voice intruded, "Bode, why are you crying? Have you heard of it already?"
His eyes flung open. Lade was sitting on his bed, next to him, with puffy eyes. Still dazed, he asked dreamily, "Hear what?"
"Grandpa died," she replied quietly, sniffing.
His mouth hung open. Every form of emotion shot through his system. His wildest fear had just hit him in the gut.
"He died outside, in the cold," she added quietly.
Now, he could only scream.
BIO:
Ifeoluwa is an avid writer who finds inspiration in the peculiarities of everyday life. From childhood memories to unconventional musings, her stories offer fresh perspectives on the world. Through her writing, she invites readers to explore the world as seen through her curious and imaginative eyes.
Regardless, there was someone who would not take a hint from the weather. Bode headed for his best friend Lade's house, fuming with rage. He approached her house, muttering curses under his breath and subtly hoping her parents were not home. He knocked twice on the front door before she opened and ushered him in.
It didn't take a seer to notice the problem in his mood. He walked in angrily, ignoring her efforts to welcome him as if he had just found out she was sleeping with his father. She had known him for three years and knew him to be one to lose his top over adding two and not one spoon of sugar to his tea. Once, he barged into her house because a neighbour's newborn kept crying. It would be no surprise if he was currently angry because the rice he bought for lunch was a bit overcooked.
"Bode, is there a problem?" she asked carefully, discreetly rolling her eyes, letting out a small sigh, and closing the door.
He sat on one of the sofas, continuously tapping his feet on the tiled floor, typical of his demonstration of irritation or anger. She simply watched him from where she stood, her back against the closed door with folded arms.
"Is it not that man? That old man!" he spat exasperatedly. Lade sighed knowingly and shook her head discreetly. 'What has the poor man done to you this time?' she asked as she walked to sit on the sofa next to him.
"Poor man? Did you just say, Poor man? Poor man my foot, Lade!" he exclaimed. 'That your “supposed” poor man is showing me hell in that house, Lade!' he growled.
"Bode, calm down now. The man does not want to be like he is either. It's his age, and you will grow to be like that someday. Would you like it if your grandchild treats you like this?" Lade asked softly, ignoring his dagger-shooting eyes.
"Lade, don't ever say that to me again. You and I know I can never grow to be like that. Look at me! I can and will never be such a burden to my grandchildren," he lashed out as he got off the sofa, flexing his muscles.
"Bode! Don't ever say that. That man took care of you when your parents abandoned you! He provided for you, clothed you, and sheltered you. He is the grandparent everyone wants to have. Now that he needs you the most, do you want to be an ingrate? What is your problem, Bode?" Lade yelled in annoyance.
Bode was immature, selfish, and ungrateful. From her perspective, he was almost treading the same path as his birth father. After his mother died bearing him, his father left him with his grandfather and fled. Everyone knew the story. She hoped he would learn before it was too late.
He stared down at her for a few seconds before making for the door angrily. Lade knew better than trying to stop him in that mood and even if she didn't, she had no intentions to. Someone needed to help him see the truth and that was her role as his best friend.
He made his way back home, burning with even more anger. Lade had disappointed him; he felt she would understand and would not be like the others who criticized and judged him. None of them knew what it took to take care of that old coot. None of them did!
He approached his compound, and as usual, there were several people gathered in front of the house with his half-blind grandfather feeding them with what they referred to as 'wisdom' born from his 'who knows if they are true experiences'.
He couldn't even do a thing by himself, yet people listened to him. He could speak from dawn until dusk but could not even make a move without someone helping him. Bode had to bathe him, make his meals, dispose of his urine, help him pass feces, feed him, brush his teeth, and help him out with several other things. He was not given a chance to be youthful because he had to take care of him. He could only be out whenever people were gathered to listen to the old man, like they were now.
"Someday, sometime... we shall understand why today was meant to be," his grandfather's strained voice rang through the compound.
Bode stormed into the compound without uttering greetings to anyone in the small crowd. He was going to walk past when his grandfather asked, "Is that you, Bode, my son?"
Bode hesitated for a few seconds before hissing and leaving abruptly, but not without noticing the hurt on the face of the old man. Immediately, guilt washed him over, but he was too busy getting angry to give it much thought.
He headed straight for his room and locked the door. He went towards his window and closed the curtains without caring about what happened to his grandfather that night. If the people who loved to listen to his wise sayings did not take care of him, then let him stay outside! He cared less. How would a man who is known for so much wisdom be so useless? He closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.
In the morning, Bode woke up with an aching body. He yawned loudly and tried to shift positions in bed but could hardly do any of that because of the body aches. Dreamily, he tried standing up but found it difficult to get on his feet. He could almost hear his bones crack.
He sighed stressfully, flickering his eyes open. However, they were blurry and felt like they sagged. What in God's name had happened to him? Slowly, he tried to get off the bed but as soon as he lifted himself off the bed, he fell back with a thud, an excruciating pain overwhelming his body. He winced out loud. Ask him about feeling like a hundred years and he will give details. Just then, someone came in through the door. He looked up and there he was standing right in front of him, trying to get him up!
"Who are you and why do you look so much like me?" Bode shot at this person, forgetting the pain hitting his body.
Now that he was thinking about it, this was his grandfather's voice. He looked at his skin; it was creased and wrinkled. He now looked like his grandfather. What had happened to him? He managed to grab a mirror placed on the stool next to his bed and examine his face. He dragged his hands over his face and body in disbelief. All his hair was gray, his eyes were sunken, his skin was all creased and his frame was small.
He looked up at his 'once upon a time' look-alike who was now standing, checking himself out too. They shared a look and immediately they understood they had switched bodies. He yelled with all his might, but his voice was not loud enough since his body condition was frail.
"Baba?" Bode called feebly, desperately wanting to believe that all of that had not just happened.
"Hmm?" his grandfather responded, standing, with an utterly confused expression written over his face.
They stared at each other strangely until Bode started to cough. Baba ran out and came in again with a glass of water. He patted Bode's back as he sipped from it. He finally got to calm down and his grandfather guided him gently to sit well with his back against the bedrest. Guilt washed Bode over; he would have yelled endlessly at his grandfather if he had to wake up so early to help him like his grandfather was doing.
"But, why... why am I...?" Bode trailed off in confusion as he looked at his frail and wrinkled body. He felt as though he would die at any moment.
"I do not know either Bode; all this is so strange to me," his grandfather responded.
"What are we going to do, baba? I cannot live my life stuck in an old body forever. I have barely started my life, Bode cried feebly.
"I do not know Bode; I have only seen this in movies," Baba replied, settling on the bed next to Bode and they both laughed.
"I look so sickly," Baba commented, looking all over Bode intensely.
"You mean to say that 'I' look sickly?" Bode corrected with a small smile hovering around his lips. His grandpa laughed. It felt so nice to see his grandfather laugh, although he really would have liked to say otherwise. It had been so long since he had a good laugh with his grandfather, and he only just realized he missed those memorable times.
"…and feel so weak," Bode added softly. They were both silent, staring at the wall before them as if it carried the answers.
"It isn't such a nice thing to feel so useless, being a burden to everyone else, you know? At times, I wish I could just die," Baba said quietly.
Bode looked at his agile-looking grandfather with instant regret washing through him. He would give anything to turn back time and be better. Anyone could be in his old man's shoes, even himself eventually. Not everyone is offered the gift of old age but when you are, it becomes a reflection of the kind of life you have lived. It was obvious why his old man was like that. When he was supposed to quietly live off his pension, he suddenly landed a toddler to take care of. Baba's son left his old man a burden and fled to start a new life. No one has ever seen him since. Every time Baba looked at his toddler grandson, he felt sorry and responsible for depriving him of parental care. If only he brought up his son well. The feeling would not wear off, regardless of the number of people who told him that children would always choose their paths. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you have deposited in them; adulthood in children is a coin with two sides. They always get to the crossroads where they are left to choose for themselves.
Baba worked hard. Hard enough to ease his guilt, if only a little bit, a consequence of his overly empathetic personality. He would always feel responsible for everything. He worked hard enough in his evening years to give his grandson the best life he could live growing up. The consequence of working hard in his late years is seen in his fast deteriorating health now.
"You know, I used to look like this too," his grandfather said again, easing the deafening silence. Bode looked over at him. "Young, agile, strong, and all. I used to work at a company. Shortly after I retired, I met you. For the love I grew to have for you, I worked so hard to give you the best," Baba spoke, smiling tightly at Bode.
Tears welled up in Bode's eyes. He didn't feel different from his own father now. If anything, he had proven to be even worse. Leaves truly don't fall far from their trees.
"And that’s why it hurts so much to know I cannot do anything for you again," he added, and this time, although he was looking so strong, his smile came off as weak.
His grandfather took his hand and stared into his eyes intently and lovingly, "I love you so much, Bode, more than you would ever know it."
This time, Bode burst out crying and was going to apologize, "I am so... "
Suddenly, someone was tapping his arm forcefully and a familiar voice intruded, "Bode, why are you crying? Have you heard of it already?"
His eyes flung open. Lade was sitting on his bed, next to him, with puffy eyes. Still dazed, he asked dreamily, "Hear what?"
"Grandpa died," she replied quietly, sniffing.
His mouth hung open. Every form of emotion shot through his system. His wildest fear had just hit him in the gut.
"He died outside, in the cold," she added quietly.
Now, he could only scream.
BIO:
Ifeoluwa is an avid writer who finds inspiration in the peculiarities of everyday life. From childhood memories to unconventional musings, her stories offer fresh perspectives on the world. Through her writing, she invites readers to explore the world as seen through her curious and imaginative eyes.
