I always believe the illustration that evolving on earth is written by a context that supersedes all and only to be played out in reality drama so to speak like the coincidence, patterns and de javu will always be played out in an impromptu manner so what we make of it maybe what differs is what I was soliloquizing when I heard a familiar voice which confirmed that it was my father. “ Omo Oye” he called me as usual, tagging the name to the tribal title. “Pappi,” I answered, and I joined him outdoors.
I sat outdoors with him on a bench as he tuned his radio then rested on the wall of the building. The evening air was cool, and it carried the faint scent of the earth after a long day's heat, and above us, the sky glowed with a fading orange color that slowly melted into deep shades of purple and blue. The stars began to sprinkle themselves across the heavens like a few shy lamps being lit one after the other. He switched off his radio and looked at me. “The radio program I just finished listening to made me feel like illustrating something for you about the ways of life and its unpredictable nature”. He said as he dropped the radio on the table which was at our front.
“Do you know I was in the art department in my secondary school days?” he uttered slowly but clearly as I looked at him in a confused state knowing that he retired as a civil service engineer. Yes, he said, “ Back then, I was an art student”. His eyes brightened with memory as he smiled. He went in and brought out a very old copy of a drama text popular in their time. “The tragedy of Julius Caesar” and continued. “After secondary school, I saw that I was a person led by curiosity to explore and that exploration led to discovery, which turned into my lifelong passion,” he concluded. “Omo Oye, I saw you love sketching faces, writing, and living in the world of imagination as a kid, but I was saddened when you pulled towards science. I thought perhaps your destiny was hidden there” he pointed out before he continued. “ I watched you leave paints, pencils, and writings behind and moved into the science department and doings. I observed you as you studied hard, learning formulas, physics, and calculations until the language of science became second nature to you." he stopped, took a sip of water from the stainless cup that was on the table, and continued. "Years later, after you had become a student of computer science, during that time, I realized that life had other plans for you, and that when you stepped into the working world. I confirmed your artistic nature returned", he paused and smiled. It is not about drawing or painting things again, but in the creativity you poured into building, designing, and imagining new ways of solving problems using technology. Your scientific path had circled back, revealing the artist inside the scientist,” he stated, laughing and looking at me, deemed his eyes then he said, “ So son, I hope you know that you just don't say you are a science student who turned into an art student as the universe plays unfold. You were chosen by both. Your journey, mine, and others' prove that our lives are written in the stars, in the manuscript of the universe. What we think we choose, sometimes has already chosen us, in case you are oblivious of that,” he concluded. I was just as silent as if we were in a graveyard and I looked at him not in surprise but in acknowledgment of his observations, although we lived far apart from each other. I smiled at him then I looked up at the night sky, where stars shimmered like words written across a cosmic page and I understood better that father's story and illustration was not about subjects in school but it was about destiny, and hinting about hidden paths that guide us to who we are meant to become. “Let go in and sleep, as today ends as another day and a new beginning is seen each morning,” he said as he stood up, picked up his radio, and went inside. “I will join you in a jiffy Pappi,” I replied, only to wait a minute to watch the glow in the sky fade from pale gold to deep indigo and shadow stretched along the ground. I rose slowly after him from the bench, picked up the stainless cup on the table, and then watched the street lamps blinking awake one by one. “Tomorrow is another day,” I said as I entered to end the day's activities.