Since our arrival, my schedule has been rather hectic, often keeping me out of the house. Recognising that, I dedicated last night entirely to her; I sat beside her, and we talked for hours, reminiscing about the old days.
It was a conversation tinged with both fondness and melancholy. I asked after some of her old friends, only to learn that several had passed away without my knowing. And while thankfully not many of my own peers are gone, the lives of some have not unfolded as grandly as we all once expected in the hopefulness of our youth.
She reiterated the struggles she faced while I was growing up and confessed that many people had labelled me as “not a serious person” when I first moved to the UK. Their judgement was based solely on my decision to dedicate my first 7/8 years here almost exclusively to law school and to building my first online business, with little visible, traditional success to show for it in the interim. But I was young, and I had faith in a solid, long-term plan. That patience has served me well; today, I worry very little about what the future holds.
I don’t think there is anything I really need in the world today that I don’t already have.
During our conversation, she thanked me once again for the recent Business Class flight experience. Her birthday is on the 25th of September. I will be in Canada at that time, so I won’t be here to celebrate with her, but other family members have assured me they will mark the occasion and “chill with her.”
My mother, Theresa Addo Kwapong, also known as Mama Tundra, turns 65 in a few days. There is no better way to honour her life and her sacrifices than by showing her that her son’s dreams were always serious, and that they now include her.
Right by Chris-Vincent Agyapong
