First Experiences

I remembered that day only for a few years then the memories flew away listing in the bulky mess of my mind.
A figure walked in unable to identify it, Smiled at me and said baby boy it's time to take a bath, I realised the figure is a woman my mother.
I bet she noticed the strange looks and maybe an unusual silence in me. She carried me into another environment totally different from the one I had seen her come in to pick me.
White squared sky, squared white walls, a bit slippery land and then a beautiful white bowl with its cover and a back support system, a rootless small piece that had it connection to the wall but dropp liquids from its plastic head, I was quite an observer.
Everything she did seemed familiar and I found myself jumping in excitement over these dropping liquids, then I saw her take a soap( I know because she had told me to close my eyes earlier so she can rub soap on my head).
But now she rubbed the soap against a little bit rough substance and used it on my body after which, she released the liquid again and I heard myself shouting and jumping in all happiness I loved it

Goodness Kyles

So here we were together, in a place the world calls her office, the kitchen. 
As usual I was in love with every flavor that came out of this highly esteemed office on hers, amazing as always because everytime in there always felt like the first, every meal made by her hand always tasted like the first, so my taste buds would say. 
And while I stood unconscious, her voice revived me from a coma her flavor had exiled my sensory organs into. 
As she said 'go and throw it outside' it was a red rounded can, it's paste tasted nice, I often saw her prepare them and spill them on those white grains that would always make me ask for more. 
It's edges were rough due to hard openings. And they I was like a white man, clothed in inquisition, ignoring the danger of any cut but starring at a red paste trophy inside, and as I slid my fingers with the first taste she caught me. 
As her hands hit again the surface of my backside repeatedly, it was strange how hands that showed love could also show rebuke at same time, at least she gave me little to taste inside. 
Amazing how a face decorated with smile transformed into a scarecrow, how feelings changed so swiftly. 
At the time I felt she was wicked, until 16years gone as I sit writing this memory without her, to perform any of the actions, a smile or a frown. 
I realize that sometimes modes change not out of willingness but circumstances and sometimes for the best to rescue our loved ones from the harm they're too blind to see.

Ofem Ubi