I’LL SMILE SOON - by Favyben

I got home from work exhausted, the kind of tiredness that settles deep in your bones. As I dropped my bag, the first thing I did was check my account balance. I needed to figure out what meal I could afford to cook, something that would last me at least two or three days and still leave enough for transportation to work. My balance stared back at me: ₦1,625.57. I sighed and began calculating in my head. Maybe rice and tomato stew. Maybe garri. Somehow, I would survive. Then my phone beeped. It was a message from my dad. *"Ib, please don't be tired of feeding me. By God's grace, I will get back on my feet soon. I have malaria and I haven't been eating well. Boma sent me ₦1,000 yesterday, but there is no gas and no food."* I read the message once. Then again. My eyes filled with tears. I looked back at my account balance: ₦1,625.57. That was all I had in the world at that moment. Without thinking twice, I sent him ₦1,100. The moment the transfer was successful, I broke down. I cried until there were no more tears left. Then I told myself I would survive on the little garri I had left at home and stretch the rice and tomatoes I usually bought monthly. As I sat there drinking my garri, trying not to lose my mind under the weight of everything, questions flooded my heart. I'm only just starting my life. I am still trying to figure things out. Why are there already so many mouths depending on me? Why are people looking to me for provision when I'm still struggling to provide for myself? I looked up to God and whispered, "Where did it all go wrong? Am I missing something? Am I getting life all wrong?" Before I could gather myself, my phone beeped again. This time, it was my younger sister. *"Ib, please, I haven't eaten. I need money to buy food."* My heart sank. Where was I supposed to find another ₦2,000? The tears came again. I cried until I felt numb. Then, strangely, I felt a little lighter. I wiped my face, took a deep breath, and replied: *"I'll send it for you. Let me see what I can do."* I didn't know how. I didn't even know where the money would come from. But somehow, I couldn't tell her no. I decided to call a friend and ask for a loan of ₦5,000. If she agreed, I could send something better to my dad, help my sister, and hopefully keep enough for transport to work. That night, after my humble meal of garri, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. I said my prayers and closed my eyes, holding on to the smallest thread of hope. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe God had not forgotten me. Maybe one day, all of this pain, sacrifice, and silent tears would make sense. And though I couldn't see it yet, I chose to believe that my season of smiling was coming soon. I’ll smile again.

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