I just dropped the phone ending the call with my folks before I picked up my notepad to type.
I love my parents. I really do, quirks and all.
In our phone conversation a few minutes ago, we said goodbyes signifying the end of the call more than three times before it ended .
There’s always one more thing even if a repetition of a tale from months ago.
I told them still in the same phone call, about a pal from church who was boarding at the same place they were at in the capital city. As I thought about describing them to the friend so he could locate them, a smile spread across my face and then a chuckle. You are wondering why right? Here’s why.
The description I was going to use was, “look out for not so oldish couple wearing matching outfits.”
Years ago, this was not the case. My dad could go back in to change his outfit if he noticed the ‘matchiness’. Lace fabrics were also frowned upon. Today, I think for every Ankara gown my mum has, my dad has a top to go and he donnes it without fuss or displeasure. Oh, the evolution.
My folks have evolved in other ways. They are calmer in their response to my decisions even if they don’t agree with them. They are nitpicky about what they eat. The ‘what’ has changed as seasons of life changed, it seems. But don’t let them get started with you on blood group and food choice.
Even with the evolution, some things have not changed. For starters, the long talks. My parents can stay in their room and go on and on talking. They did it when we were younger and sometimes we joined in, sitting around on their bed. Present day, they want to do this across cities and countries, talking with their children about everything and nothing. My dad more restrained than my mum in calling you at 6 am on a Wednesday just because she hasn’t heard your voice for two days. And because it is that early, you are tempted to think something’s up, so you pick up the phone. And to your sleep laden “hello” , she goes oh, you’re sleeping? I haven’t heard your voice in two days. How are you? I’ll call back later. Warning don’t ask anything, not even ‘did you sleep okay’ cos there goes your sleep. That is if it hasn’t gone already. And if it is already gone, then you might as well. It is not unusual to hear my dad in the background saying leave them be in response to my mum’s “I’ve not heard from your sister/brother [insert name]. Warning, it is dangerous to answer! Long talks are not limited to when it is with their kids. When they are by themselves, they still talk for long periods and it is not unlikely to call them after 10 pm and hear their hearty banter.
Chatting is not only what happens after 10 pm. My folks pray together and on their own. They have days of prayer for their kids and specific days for their grandkids. It is such a beautiful feeling to know that whether prayer needs are shared with them or not, they are constantly petitioning heaven on our behalf. #BlessedMuch
As much as they have evolved together, they still hold true to their individual selves.
The Mrs is very different from the Mr but I can’t imagine them with any other kind of partner. My dad the introvert, did not like to be up and about for social events. But my mum, the extroverted extrovert didn’t mind showing up for two. Her common phrase was, “my husband sent me to represent him”. Ahh a wife and more! She knew just what to say and in those settings where she represented her husband, his presence was well felt even in absentia.
My siblings and I have a running joke that my mum is the most optimistic person on the planet. I really think she is. Even politicians with all their lies and false promises cannot deter her hope-literally. My dad, on the other hand, will drop you like it is hot and hold your words far away from his heart and mind if laced with falsehood or unkept promises, time after time. They make a good duo and together or separately, all through the years have made connections outside themselves.
My folks make the most beautiful connections with people from across spectrums. The most unlikely, the most difficult, and the most trying, all makeup great connects. Soon these become sons and daughters, sometimes disciples and sometimes dream partners and benefactors. Watch my dad dive deep into life and living with a vulcanizer by the roadside and listen to him teach from the pages of The Book, and you will see a skilled communicator, at each time leaning into the context and nuanced world of his listeners. My mother can promote and sell almost anything, just the same way she is easily convinced to try out new products in the name of, “it is the same thing.”
New things do not faze my mum. My dad, on the other hand, loves his known territory even though he would happily try out my mother’s never-before-made recipes. One a risk taker the other not easily given to new adventures. Still working in sync like two peas in a pod. That’s exactly what they are. Two peas differently shaped, differently textured, still peas, still in the same pod. All of these feed into my life and who I am.
My life is a book of adventures with my folks in it. Some chapters have scary events others exciting ones. But mostly, I like the way the character, me, evolves because of the presence of the other main characters, my folks. More than just pages of my life featuring them, my folks, by their living and their teaching, training and their talking have shaped our becoming, my siblings and I.
Today we can open our homes and our doors because our folks modelled hospitality and generosity so well.
Today we can pursue up a life of financial integrity because we learned that you can keep funds in your care faithfully and use funds only for the purpose they are meant for.
Today we can speak up for truth whether or not it yields material benefits because we saw my folks do so unreservedly.
Today we recognize good meals because my mum cooks really well. I didn’t catch the gifting passed on from my grandma, but my sisters did. I, on the other hand, can tell good food when I see it, or better still, when I taste it. Whew!
Today we spend big for the long haul and spend little for things that rot. My folks taught us to eat well and stay healthy. Buy good quality stuff even if expensive, even if you can afford only one [secret to long-lasting shoes].
Today we walk tall because they made us believe that we are all that and then some. My parents consistently root for their own, for my siblings & me.
My folks are great cheerleaders. Sometimes when I listen to my mum speak about my work, I am floored, overjoyed, and honored that I make them proud. They do same about my siblings and inlaws.
The support in every and anyway, is tangible.
My parents think I am all that and they let me know in more ways than one. It doesn’t stop there, they talk about it to anyone who cares to listen.
My parents listen. I mean they have grown better at it over the years. They listen to me rave or rant, about work shenanigans, triumphs with kids, and new learning. To think that they tried different ways to push me into the NGO world, many clashes arising from that push. Was this driven by a burden they had for my well-being? I suppose in some way. Who knows!
Burden is not the word that comes to mind when I think of my parents. They don’t place burdens on us to become or to do. Though they nudge you to thrive- and there have been hard nudges :)
They also do not think the needs of their kids are a burden. My parents show up and show out for their kids. We, their kids, are all between 30 and 50 years old, and when there’s a need they are present, sleeves drawn, ready to plunge in. And they do so day after day with their words, in cash, in-kind, and on their knees.
I would not trade my parents for the world. My becoming is incomplete without the presence of their loving ways and deeds, quirks and all.
