When I reached the second decade of my life, I figuratively felt like a pizza. I was sprinkled with all the toppings of youth and verve while baked to a crisp by discipline from a strict father and more than a decade of non secular teachings.
I was about to be divided by the confusion brought out by worldly affairs.
Loving had a new meaning. That’s what the opposite sex explained to my cold and calculating head. Whatever puppy love, teen love and other love combined, I entered the arena of ‘this is the real thing’ love.
What’s a slice of the whole devoted to someone I tried to know personally? Could it be any more difficult than getting along with my younger sister? She is a Gemini.
“Do you love me?”
How many times should I answer this simple question to appease her insecure feelings? I always thought I was supposed to be more insecure because she was a beauty compared to my being the beast.
“Don’t look at other women!” she often warned.
“Tell me, how on earth could I do that?” I asked one time, somewhat irritated of her invasion of what I needed to see.
“Because I am the only girl in your life.”
Frankly, she had a point. I even told her that myself when I started to court her.
“Can I look at my mother, my sister, my aunt, my niece or any female relative in my clan?”
“No,” she would joke to diffuse the tension brewing between us.
It could have been a fairy tale romance but fate and reality had other plans. Nothing could have prepared us to face the real challenges of growing up.
She took a piece of me with her departure. From then on, I was incomplete.