Five years ago, when Enotse lost her mum, the essence of life was somewhat lost on her. When she had her daughter a year later and her husband named her Agbenu, after her Late mother, her ever growing love for her lover grew by an ounce.
Today, as Enotse got Agbenu dressed to commemorate her fourth birthday, her daughter said to her. “I remember when I used to comb your hair in a hurry so you wouldn’t miss the school bus, and you’d cry until your father sang for you.” It was a shocking claim, and an accurate one. If Apostle were here, he would lay hands and speak in tongues. But as the tear rolled off Enotse’s chin, she pulled her daughter towards her and embraced her mother.
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