PASSION IMPOSSIBLE

It was a rainy Saturday evening, thunder claps and lightening strikes characterized the entire evening as it looked like the sky would fall. I was in my room by the window watching how empty the streets were when my father called out to me 'Travis don't tell me your chothes for tomorrow isn't ready.'

I almost asked what's going down tomorrow when I realised tomorrow is actually Sunday. Yes, being the Parish priest of St Anthony Anglican church Scarville, my father ensured that attending services and 'worshiping the Lord' isn't negotiable in the Kent house. I wasn't always happy doing the things I did but I had to, not with everyone looking at me with high hopes and expectations, regularly telling me what to and what not to do. I understand being my father isn't easy but at least he made his choice which is the one thing I was never given the chance to. As early as the age of 12 I was made to play the piano in our parish, no one cared to know what I wanted, not with everyone feeling they know what's right for you. All I ever wanted was to be a normal teenager, score high grades, score some goals and find love when the time is right. I in no way hate my father but the fact that he isn't letting me decide my life made me miserable. All I wanted was to be normal.

My mother Josephine Kent was quite the opposite of my father, she considers emotion above expectations. She believes in allowing us live our lives to the best of our ability, trusting us to make the right decisions when the need arises. This confilct of ideologies often times led to misunderstandings between her and my father. My mother often told me I was a twin and my twin sister Tamara was mauled by a wolf during a family picnic when we were still toddlers. According to her, the day of the incident remains the saddest and the scariest day of her life. She explained how we were both so opposite in behaviour but yet had an identical birthmark behind our neck, a vertical zigzag looking pattern more like a lightening bolt. Although I had a younger sister Valerie, i still imagined what life would have looked like if my twin sister were to be alive.

Valerie was born when I was four. My father had wanted to name her Tamara in rememberance of his lost daughter but my mother refused fearing it will be a constant reminder of some unpleasant memories. Valerie is a sweet little girl, she cried a lot growing up and gave everyone a hard time only to grow up to be so sweet and simple, only that she was asthmatic and needed special care and attention. I find it really hard to be far away from her for a long time after an incident that happened when she was twelve. She had carelessly misplaced her inhaler having had no use for it for a long time. I was in my room sleeping when I heard someone push my door forcefully as if trying to push down the door. I had thought it was my dad trying to shout at me for something I probably did only for me to open the door and find Valarie on the floor with her right hand on the door. She was having an attack, she had lost so much strength and was gasping for breath. I quickly picked her up and placed her on my bed, she was so frail that I couldn't ask her any questions. I immediately went to my wardrobe and brought out the inhaler I had always kept there for emergencies just like this.

After about an hour, she raised her head and asked "how did you know?" "'know what?'' I inquired, "that something like this would happen" she replied

I smiled as i answered her "You are my responsibility, being a step ahead of you Is how I can truly care for you." She was all smiles as she went back to her room. The next day she narrated the whole incident to our parents according to her she thought she would die all she wanted was for someone to at least see her die. Before we left for school that my father made us recite Psalms 23 and Psalms 91 as he feared an "evil presence" is trying to plague our family.

Looking back, I now understand why he made this statement. My father knows more than he is telling us.