Hey pops,

You are old and ancient,

You have seen more moons and suns than me,

And more rain, and possibly more banana plants.

So, you sure have some wisdom, more than me.

I am young and tiny, still finding my way in life,

Maybe one day I’ll grow old and become ancient like you,

And maybe there’ll be a mini-me asking endless questions.

I have more questions than answers to matters of life,

Over the course of your life you have lost friends, parents, siblings, cousins.

How did you process grief?

And what did you learn about it?

I can’t seem to find a grip around the emotion.

Should I honour the dead? Why, and how?

And matters of the heart, I don’t know what to do:

Should I marry a person I love, or one I am attracted to?

Should I marry a handsome man, or a rich one?

Should I marry one who adores me, or one that I adore?

As a young man, what was your favourite thing to do?

Did you keep your afro?

And what was your work life like?

Did you argue with your manager?

How did you handle losing some of your business deals?

Btw, where are your friends?

I rarely see them when I visit.

Nevermind, you’re ancient—probably they are too,

And their kids told them not to move around a lot.

I know my questions are random, but bear with me.

What’s your favourite thing about me?

Or wait—wait, let’s take a selfie.

Oh, wait, I need to get a good angle.

One year later, I still have questions.

I miss you.

Featured image by yours trully