I wish I had the power to go back in time. To go back to that young age when life was so sweet, apart from poverty of course, but with little worries of what might happen the next minute. I wish I had the power to go back in time.
I wish I had the power to go back in time. To go back to when I was just about to get married. To go back to that time I made the worst mistake of my life. To go back and pursue a different path, away from marriage.
I wish I had the power to go back in time. To go back to that time I decided to share a roof with a total stranger. To go back to that time she was just about to set foot in my otherwise poverty-stricken rented cube. I wish I had the power to go back there and lock that door.
But I blame my father. The old man was selfish. He was selfish with information and wisdom. He had all the time to tell me about what lay ahead in terms of marriage. He had all the time to tell me to be a staunch Catholic priest.
But he did not. It is like he wanted me to find out about it myself. And yes, curiosity killed a cat. The curiosity of wanting to domesticate a soft and wobbling nyash has me shedding tears every day. Has me cursing that day. Has me cursing my curiosity.
I wish I became a priest. I would be somewhere taking free holy wine, pure wine from Rome. Then on Sunday, I would call grownup men and women “My sons, my daughter, may peace be with you.” And they would go back to their miserable lives as I go back to taking wine.
I wish I had the power to go back in time.
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