The Memory That Wouldn’t Let Go - by Eyitoluwase Soyinka

Date: Oct 7, 2025.I’ve lived long enough to know that some memories choose you, and mine chose my mother.It chose her in a sea-blue sundress, swaying in the wind, blue tulips tucked into her dark chestnut hair as she sat by the grassy shore behind our house. The sunlight caught on her skin and made it glow like morning dew. She was beautiful, even to my little mind.Mum had a smile that was never just a smile. It began as a smirk, teasing and unsure, but somehow it spread and lit up her whole face. Her laughter always came in soft bursts, the kind that made you want to laugh, too.she was special.Sometimes she would smile that one that started like she was hiding something but then spread till her whole face glowed. She had many smiles.A small one for Daddy when he came home early.A wide one for my uncle when he visited.A proud one for me when I did well in school. And another one, a polite, fake-looking one, when she didn’t really mean it., she usually gave this to Mrs Penny at the supermarket who always asked when mama would be with child again.Back then, our house was full of laughter. I remember Daddy lifting me onto his shoulders while Mum pretended to scold him for being careless. I remember her singing as she cooked, an old folk tune about a milk maid seducing a sailor , her voice rising and falling like a breeze through open windows. Even the silence between my parents used to feel safe.But happiness, I would later learn, is fragile like the thin glass of Mum’s perfume bottles. It looks solid until one sharp moment shatters it completely.That sharp moment for us began after Aunty Alberta came to visit with Mum’s old school friends, everything felt strange. Mum and Dad started fighting, though not like on TV. Daddy never shouted. He just went quiet. Sometimes, after she finished yelling, he’d say,“When you’re ready to say what’s truly eating you up, Bertie...you’ll talk.”And then he would walk away.To my small mind, I couldn’t understand why Daddy never answered her anger. Why didn’t he tell her that the money she wanted for shopping had gone to pay her parents’ hospital bills? Or that the school she wanted to attend in Boston was too expensive now that he’d lost his job at the newspaper?It seemed simple to me. If they just talked , really talked, everything would be fine again. Maybe they were both too proud. Or maybe they had simply forgotten how happy they used to be. But deep down, I knew the happy days of my childhood were slipping away.I was seven when I finally learned what was eating Mum from the inside.I came home late because I got into a fight at school. A girl said she was stronger than me, and I wanted to prove she wasn’t. My uniform was torn, and my knees were dirty. I knew Mum would be mad, so I ran through the back of the house to hide my clothes in the barn.That’s when I heard her.Her voice sounded small, like she was crying into her hands. " I wish she had never been born.”I froze.Who was she talking about? I crouched behind the door, holding my torn uniform close to my chest. My heart was beating so loud I thought she’d hear me. I peeked through the crack and saw Uncle James holding her. She was crying so hard her shoulders shook.Then I heard her say it again, louder this time.“I hate her, James, she stole everything from me...If I hadn't given birth to her, I would be able to Walk away, pursue education in Boston, I truly hate her...I wish she was dead"And then it clicked.It was me.I was the one she hated.I was seven, but even then I knew that no mother should hate her child. my legs gave beneath me and that night, as I lay awake staring at the ceiling, I made a silent promise.If she wanted a dead child...then I wanted a dead mother.

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