Know Your destiny, Align wisely
Expedition To The Girls’ Kingdom
On my last visit to my alma mater, I found myself standing outside my old cubicle. The paint was peeling, the windows still rattled in the wind, and the air smelled exactly as I remembered: dust, old paper, and the quiet hum of ambition. I stood there, letting the memories flood in like a wave I didn’t try to resist.
It took me back to the final year. We stayed back during the break, a handful of us, choosing the ghost-town silence of empty classrooms over the chaos of home. It was supposed to be about discipline and laser focus. But without the usual watchful eyes of teachers and prefects, the lines blurred fast. Guys slipped into town like shadows—no exeats, no apologies. They came back with mangoes, food, and stories so wild they made us laugh till we couldn’t breathe.
When school resumed, the escapades didn’t stop. One warm afternoon, I was buried in my notes, trying to decode a stubborn physics problem, when a pal strolled in. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and he leaned in like he was sharing state secrets.
“Ola girls this Sunday,” he whispered. “We’re going. You in?”
I chuckled, half amused, half tempted. We didn’t have permission. It was risky. But the way he said it—like it was some sacred rite of passage—made it hard to say no. Soon, the room buzzed with plans and the energy was infectious. We were young, bold, and convinced we were untouchable.
But as I was ironing my shirt, something tugged at me. I looked up and asked, “What if we get caught?”
The room fell silent. The pal shrugged, flashing that crooked grin of his. “Me? I don’t care. If they kick me out, so be it. I’m already a legend in my house. First to make it this far. I’m the most educated in my family.”
His words hit me like a punch to the chest. Not because they were reckless—but because they were honest. Raw. That wasn’t bravado. That was a boy who had already climbed a mountain just by being here.
And suddenly, I felt the full weight of my own story. My parents, who had stretched every cedi to keep me in school. My grandma’s voice, steady and wise echoed in my ears: “If you have everything to lose, don’t run with those who have nothing to lose.”
I saw their faces. Their quiet pride. The dreams they had stitched into my future like embroidery and my own aspirations. And I knew—I couldn’t afford to gamble it all for a thrill.
“I am out, guys,” I said, my voice steady but soft.
My friend blinked, surprised. “You sure?”
I nodded. “I’ve got too much to lose.”
He didn’t argue. Just gave me a long look, then turned back to the others. And I sat there, watching them go, feeling both left out and deeply anchored.
Reflectointrospection
That moment stayed with me. It wasn’t just about skipping a trip. It was about choosing my path, even when it meant standing alone. It was the first time I truly understood what it meant to protect your future—not out of fear, but out of love.
Serenity Prayer
Dear Lord,
> May we discern the value of restraint, embrace the responsibility of legacy, and choose the path that honours both sacrifice and vision. Amen
