Once Upon A Girl By Mirabelle Morah

Cynthia was always nice to me. She had the prettiest smile and the prettiest hair, not that I knew many girls but Cynthia lived next door.

“You, come out and play with me.” She’d call out on Wednesday evenings.

“Hey, come on and eat with me.” She’d say to me in school.

“Would you be in church today?” She’d ask me on Sunday mornings.

Sometimes I thought she cared about me more than my family did and so I trusted her with my trust. My everything. And my life too.

It was carol night in church that day. Cynthia made me sing with the junior choir and I had only obliged because she was also in the choir. The air was cold outside and everyone was inside the church building. We stood by the baptism pool, looking into it from behind the fence.

“Mama says once I turn 16 I can become baptized.” Cynthia said to me.

“Why wait that long? I thought you were baptized already as a baby.” I replied.

Then she looked me in the eyes and said to me: “I want to be holy for him. I want to be just right for him.”

Those words have never left my memory. I wish every girl today would wanna be like my Cynthia. And I pray that someday, I will get to be Cynthia’s him.