RECURRING DECIMAL

The wailing increased as the pallbearers lowered the body to the ground. The grave diggers picked up their shovels to finish their job filling the grave with sand. The howling lessen as people turned their back to take their leave. No one was passionate enough to go 6 feet with the deceased to prove their love. They all stopped crying and wailing soon as they started taking stocks of properties.

Jolted into awakeness by the tap on my shoulder, I cleared the sleep from my eyes, as I tried to observe the unfamiliar environment. I turned around and saw two men, both in all white flowing garments with nice fragrance. They introduced theirselves as Munkar and Nakir. They proceeded into interrogating me and asked; have you ever lived before?. I replied lived? what’s that? I said no confidently. 

Just then, a clip of my existence was played before me. Who could have thought I lived for 65years. 25years of my life trying to figure out what to do with life. Constantly stumbling off my feet, rising up with little and mostly no help. Flirting, drinking, partying, thinking and sometimes making people laugh with my lame jokes was all I did. Lost in the world, I would question my existence and resolve into praying to ease the tension.

The clip ended. A voice from within asked; would you like another chance?. All the 65years memories erased and you get to be reborn?. I stood there dazed and confused. I managed to answer yes, I wouldn’t repeat my old mistake and I’ll live better, I promised. The voice echoed again, your wish has been granted. However, not everyone get this golden opportunity.

Happiness spread through the reception as the doctor announced the arrival of the newborn. Congratulations, people told the father as he struggled through the room to meet his child in the ward. The mother was tired but smiling. Feeling exhausted but fulfilled. 

As he tried to pick his new born, the baby’s tiny leg hit the flask and he smiled. My first mistake on earth again. Well, man is born to make mistakes and learn from it, that shouldn’t stop him from living, I thought as I countined crying awaiting my mother’s breast in my mouth.

Those who are fortunate to live should endeavor to maximize their good deeds. Perfection is not attainable, but we must always try to choose actions that potray our inherent good as humans and reject those that appeal to our worst impulses.

Salami Eniola

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