An Innocence I Crave

I wish I had the power to stop time.

It’s 6 pm in my estate (it’s 6 pm everywhere in Nigeria). I’m sitting outside my house, watching the kids on my street play football and run around. The little ones are playing hide and seek, and the laughter coming from them is louder than a speaker.

I don’t do this often, you know? Sit outside in the evening and just be one with nature. I’m usually stuck in my room reading a post on Substack, watching a fight unfold on Twitter, or reading a book on my phone. But today, I left my room for once, just for fun, and not because they suddenly took the light after weeks of uninterrupted power supply.

Watching the kids argue over who scored, who didn’t, who touched the ball with their hand, and who deserves a penalty, feels... heartwarming. It reminds me of my childhood. I can’t help but admire their innocence. They have no idea how tough the world is or how scary adulthood can be. I’m sure they don’t even know the current fuel prices—lmao.

All they’re worried about is who gets the free kick and who didn’t follow the rules of the game.

Seeing them play takes me back to my childhood. Those carefree days spent with friends and neighbors... We played family games, cooked terrible meals even a dog wouldn’t eat, and pretended we were stars on TV. The boys played football and yelled loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. We only dispersed when our parents got home but always made sure to plan how the next day would go.

A time when our only worries were school, homework, house chores, and outdoor play. We had no idea what the world had in store for us.

I remember how we couldn’t wait to grow up, so we could live freely and wildly—away from our parents’ constant control and refusal.

Had we known!

It’s almost 7 pm, and I’m back inside the house because mosquitoes decided to feast on me. But I can still hear the happy screams of the kids outside. I can still hear their laughter, their arguments, the sound of the football against the ground, and the screams when one team scores.

The younger kids have gone inside. They’ve run out of energy and all they want is food and their mummies. How adorable!

At that moment, I wished I had the power to stop time so they could have as much fun as they wanted, without having to grow up and face the weight of adulthood.

I wish I could tell them to hold on to these moments for as long as they can because they might not have as much time, to have a moment like this when they’re older.

I wish I could tell them to listen to their parents, to hug them more. Because, as they grow older, so do their parents, and one day, they’ll look at them and only see wrinkles and tiredness.

But I can’t, because they’d look at me and wonder what’s wrong with this aunty.

I hope their smiles and laughter never fade!

And oh, how I wish I could be a kid again.