THE DAY YOU UNWRAP HAPPINESS | ADAORA RAJI

Today you hold your green card

See your non-smiling headshot standing pretty

Beside your basic data etched in fine print

This one-way ticket to the American dream is lodged

in your left palm.

Last week Mama says her heart is heaving from the many stones you have tied around her neck.

She says the first stone is 'for the seven full years you go abroad and not come home'

The second stone is because 'you no wan to eat the sun she cook keep for you.'

The third stone is for not behaving ‘like Chukwuemeka who come home to see him mother just after two years him go America'.

'Papers Ma. I will come when I get Papers.'

Last year Papa says his body feels too light it must be because he is about to transition

So you must come quickly to kiss the moon on his head

You send him 500dollars and he stops asking you to come

500dollars don't stop him from dying and you cannot go to give him a befitting burial

No papers

You send another 500dollars to the people who will bury him for you.

Yester night Wife wifey say you plant a seed of sorrow in her heart because you did not comment on una wedding anniversary post on Instagram.

'Or are you hiding me because you marry US citizen for papers?

'I simply forgot. Work, work multiplied by more work.'

Mr Boss Bossy who file green card for you asks if

‘You are happy now.'

'Yes.'

What he does not know is that happiness can be wrapped like an end-of-year gift and stored in the middle of the clouds.

The gift that cannot be opened until

You book a flight ticket home

Then you will lay on Mama’s breasts

Watch pellets of rain descend on Papa's tombstone

Melt into and become a reluctant whole with Wife Wifey

And hold your child's face until it becomes your own face.

Cover art by Shane Allison.