Dearest Jupiter,

It’s been awhile and I don’t even know where to start.  A lot has happened in the intervening years, you can say I’ve grown up.  I’d like to think I’m wiser and smarter.  Mama has passed away, I heard about it on the grapevine.  Well actually, I got a letter from Yinka asking me to come home for the funeral.  I didn’t go, apart from the fact that I never want to set foot in that village again, I’ve seen enough death and lost too many to want to put myself through the drama of her funeral.  Not that I grieved for her, her actions are too indelibly seared into my consciousness for me to feel anything but acrimony.  I’m begining to think I need therapy.

Well moving on swiftly, I found the journal I wrote to you and decided to publish it.  Don’t ask me why, I read it and it didn’t seem like it all happened to me.  It happened to someone else who was once me.  Yep, I know; this is where therapy would come in handy.  Anyway, I sent it to publishers but they weren’t interested.  A part of me wanted to give up and just do the 9-5, but then the kid who survived the trauma of growing up in Idogun & Lagos started to whisper to me.  She made me remember the journey to get here, she told me to have faith and have belief in the grown up version of her.  So I did, and no, not that easily.  It took awhile and courage, but I eventually got there.  I’ve self-published my own Memoirs and called them Imagine This.  Hopefully, soon to be in a shop near you, if I can mange to convince the establishment that it’s worth a second, third and fourth look.  Watch this space