I don’t know if anyone else has ever had one of those days where everything is planned, packed, prayed for… and then the universe just says, “Not today…..
Yeah… It was a Saturday morning in Calabar, and I was actually meant to be traveling to Ikom for a cousin’s traditional wedding,Everything was arranged, I had chosen my outfit many days in advance, pressed and had hung it with care, packed my bag, and even bought a small gift to take along , I’d been looking forward to it all week mostly because I hadn’t seen my extended family in a long time. I wanted to feel that sense of belonging again, to laugh at inside jokes and dance until my feet hurt.
I woke up earlier than usual, excited, though slightly nervous about the trip, I had taken a Bolt to the park and was among the first people to arrive.
The driver smiled and said,
“Madam, you’re really early. Do you want to travel to heaven?”
I chuckled….
“Abeg leave me. I don't want to miss this wedding for anything.”
And then just like that, the sky changed ,those kinds of rain that don’t give you warning? No rumble, no drizzle. Just straight-up downpour like the heavens just burst open.
At first, I thought it was just a normal temporary something ,Maybe a 15-minute rain down.
One of the park attendants said, “it will soon stop, it's just a small shower.”
But 15 minutes turned to 30… and then an hour… and then two.
The entire bus park was in chaos. The drivers wouldn’t move, not with the kind of storm that was brewing outside.
“Rain like this? I cannot drive o. That is how trailers will just splash everybody,” one driver shouted, shaking his head.
People started going back home one by one, At first, I waited under one of the shops at the park, trying to convince myself it would pass. But the rain only got heavier, The wind started whipping around like it had something personal against us, I wasn’t even sure which direction the storm was coming from anymore. All I knew was that I was stuck.
I remember sitting there, clutching my bag, dressed in jeans and a top, surrounded by strangers who were also stranded,There was a woman with a crying baby, two teenage girls taking selfies under their transparent umbrella, and an old man muttering about how Calabar rain has no conscience.
“it’s this kind rain that disgrace people,” he grumbled, shaking water off his cap. “ No respect at all.”
And then there was me trying so hard not to cry,not because of the wedding itself, but because I suddenly felt so helpless.
Something about being forced to stop like that against my will started doing something inside me, You know those moments where you’re still, not because you want to be, but because you have no choice? That kind of stillness forces you to see things differently.
As I sat there, I started remembering simpler times. Days when rain used to excite me, not annoy me, Days when I would sit by the window, just listening to the drops hit the roof, feeling a kind of calm I hadn’t felt in a long time. Somewhere along the line, I had forgotten how to just be. Always moving, always proving.
That morning, stuck at the bus stop, I wasn’t thinking about emails, deadlines, or even the wedding I was supposed to be traveling for. I was just there watching the rain wash the street, listening to it beat against metal roofs, seeing how people huddled together under shop canopies or used their bags as makeshift umbrellas. And for once, I wasn’t rushing to fix anything. I let myself be still, fully present in the moment.
The stillness brought memories I hadn’t visited in years. I remembered sitting in my childhood home during one long holiday break, watching the rain fall for hours with my cousins. We would gather by the window, sometimes making jokes, sometimes just quiet.
“Who will first catch the rain drops by hand?” my younger cousin once asked, and we all stretched our palms out the window.
We didn’t have much, but there was peace. That peace had been missing lately lost in the noise of trying to be everything to everyone.
It dawned on me how much of my adult life had been spent trying to outrun time. Every moment had to be “productive,” every pause filled with guilt. Even traveling to Ikom had felt like another task, not a joy. I had been so focused on not missing anything that I forgot how it felt to simply feel to be in one place, doing nothing, without my mind sprinting ten steps ahead.
The rain wouldn’t stop. It kept pouring like it was trying to drown out all the noise in my head. And maybe that’s what it did. Somewhere between the thunderclaps and the endless sheets of water falling from the sky, I exhaled. Not just physically, but emotionally. It was the kind of deep breath you didn’t know you were holding until it finally left you.
I reached out to my cousin on the phone, letting her know I might not make it to Ikom that early.
She laughed and said, “No wahala, that's how rain humbles someone sometimes.”
That sentence stuck with me, rain humbles…. It brings everyone whether big man or small to the same level. No car, no money, no schedule can beat it. You just have to wait.
And in that waiting, I found a part of myself I didn’t know I had lost, The part that wasn’t defined by what I did or achieved, The part that knew how to appreciate silence, slowness, and surrender.
That unexpected delay gave me more than just a ruined travel plan, it gave me clarity, It reminded me that I don’t always have to be in control for things to work out. The rain eventually stopped, of course, but by that time, I knew I wouldn’t make it to the traditional wedding, I felt a little guilty, but I also felt something I hadn’t felt in weeks: peace.
I ended up missing the traditional wedding but was fully present in the white wedding, and it was beautiful, but that day the one that didn’t go as planned was the day that stayed with me the most.
[Original and AI free]
Image(s) in this post are my own
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