The honeymoon is coming to an end

by Nov 30, 2017Short Stories, Uncategorized30 comments

My honeymoon is coming to an end, and numberless emotions are coursing through my veins. One minute I’m excited about my marriage, the next minute I am tormented by all the things that could potentially go wrong. Yet another time I’m completely unperturbed, I wear a poker face and stubbornly refuse to let even the slightest tell escape my carefully configured stance. My blissful honeymoon is coming to an end…

 You see, I recently went through a scandalous divorce. I’d been married to this guy for almost forty years. We had a good thing going. He promised to make me the pride of all civilisation, promised me that I would never want for anything. For a while there he delivered on his promises, like the true gentleman that he is. My pantry had food galore and my children never went hungry. I even began supplying food to my poor neighbours who were still struggling. However, things took a very dark turn. I won’t get into much detail about what went wrong, but let’s just say my beloved left me for another woman. Well, he didn’t physically leave, but his heart no longer resided in the depths of my soul where it used to be. I became an object of scorn among other women; women who once revered me now frowned at the mention of my name. I felt hollow. It hurt. I had to get out.

My divorce was very public, and I guess that was a good thing, because as each day gave way to the next, my neighbours wondered at how disciplined my children were. None of them were throwing tantrums, or fighting, or rebelling. In the face of grave imbalance in my home, they did their very best to maintain a state of normalcy unlike any other. I would have never gone through this divorce with so much dignity if it weren’t for them. I’m so proud of them.

Do forgive me for gushing over my children like that. Where was I going with this again? Ah, yes…

I found another man to take my beloved’s place. My children were so overjoyed they took to the streets to celebrate. The last time I had seen them so happy and excited was when I had married my beloved, about thirty-seven years ago. And now, they had the chance to watch me, their mother, get a second chance at happiness. Most of my children were ecstatic, but every wedding has that handful of guests that whispers, “This marriage will never last”. And these whispers grew louder and louder. “What makes her so sure that this man will be any different from the last?” I didn’t know the answer to this question, but it was my wedding day. All I wanted to do was enjoy every minute of it. “Do you, Zimbabwe, take Emmerson Dambudzo Mnangagwa to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do,” came the response from the depths of my belly. And off I went with my groom, expecting nothing and yet hoping for a lot of things…

So, here I am, the honeymoon almost over, and countless emotions coursing through my veins. My children come rushing to me with so many requests and pleas, but I tell them to be patient. After all, the wounds of thirty-seven years of hardships cannot be erased overnight. But if there’s one thing I have resolved, it is this: I will no longer adopt the strict laissez-faire approach I had in my previous marriage. I will make sure that my children and I are as hands on as we can be, because I know now that marriage is a two-way street. My groom may be the head of this house, but my children and I make up the rest of its body. We have a part to play, and I want to do it right this time. Iwe neni tine basa…

%d bloggers like this: