Love…Like Ice Cream by Agajem Jemima Japhet

I am just 8, so l am not understanding. I don’t understand what mummy and daddy think they are doing. And it is paining me that it is as if they too do not understand what they are doing. Now, they do not smile at each other like before again and rub my head together, while we eat the fine food the maid and mummy prepare. All they do is shout at each other. Daddy will say one thing, mummy will then say times ten of what daddy will say and before you know it, it will be gbugbu gbagba, and the next morning, mummy will be serving me my noodles with bruises on her face and l will see scratches at the side of daddy’s neck when he is driving me to school, as if he fought with one of those tigers we use to see on TV.

I do not know why they are now behaving like this. I want to ask them what happened, if l am the cause, or if it is that the “love” mummy says is the reason why people get married, has finished. And if it is that it has finished, isn’t it “gettable” again like the way mummy buys new milk and Milo from the shop when the tin gets empty because l always lick it?

I just don’t know, and nobody will tell me anything. Whenever l try to ask mummy something, she will tell me to go inside and play with my toys. Toys, toys, toys! Maybe that is all they think l think about because l am very small. It is not that l don’t like playing, but that is not everything that is in my head…and eyes.

I know l am small and can’t understand what all these big people do, but l know l don’t want mummy and daddy to be fighting every time. I want the old mummy and daddy back, because those ones used to know when l want ice cream or a new toy or a bedtime story without me telling them, as if they are living in each other and can see inside my mind together.

I want all of us to be happy… l think that is what “love” means. I know because l am happy whenever l lick ice cream.

I just think “love” should be happy… Like ice cream.