Older tomorrow

 

You are the first passenger from the door at the driver's side so you are sitting directly behind him with your face towards the window. You feel the wind against your glasses, in your eyes and you hear it howling at your left ear as the taxi speeds past.
For a moment you close your eyes and imagine you were the lead actress in a rom-com. In your mind, this is the "happy ever" part, all the happy ever after's end with a good road scene don't they? Or maybe not, you think and turn your attention to the back of the head of the man sitting in front of you. You didn't realise it before but he had raggae music on and he was singing along to all the words. Up, down, up, down...Up, your eyes are following the direction of the bobbing head. The driver has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging outside the window. He is making all kinds of movements with that other hand and you could almost imagine it as an entity separate from him.
His voice is husky and you can tell from his accent that he is yoruba. You have always had a soft spot for yoruba men. Perhaps, it is because you almost fell in love with one, but you are not sure.
You see his face in your mind's eye now; the man you almost fell in love with and you think about how much difference a little "almost" can make.
Almost.
You are almost a new age. You will be a year older tomorrow. The thought ties a knot around the middle of your stomach everytime it comes and you know why. You know that time is fast on its feet and it doesn't care to leave you behind. You remember the little notebook where you listed out all your goals the previous year and think about how you achieved none of them. You sigh.
This year, you don't plan to make any list. Life is too uncertain, you tell your self. You want to live it fully and shamelessly. You don't know if you care anymore or if you do not care, but you know that in this new age, you are not going to be unkind to yourself.
You give your head a little shake as if to make all the thoughts fall off and you concentrate on the man in front of you instead.
"...you wana whyne fo' meeee", he is singing on top of his lungs. You are scared for a few seconds that he would take off the lone hand from the steering but again, you remind yourself that you don't care.
Up, down, up, down...you are bobbing your head too, to the almost soft humming of the engine of the volkswagen, to the yelling of the wind from the window, to the chatter of the other passengers, to the voice of this Yoruba man, to the music from the radio, to the music inside of you.

Author's note: I'll be a year older tomorrow. Happy birthday to me.lol