The Boy, the Queen, and the Queen

The mop stick was furiously passed under the cupboard. Time had flown and the afternoon business could not be skipped on account of the chores at hand. As the fluffy hand tool went back into the bucket, a metallic object on the floor caught his eye. With all gentleness, he picked it and held his gaze upon it. Its owner was long gone, a resident of the other side of eternity, no wonder it had caught his attention some. It had been his Mamma’s ring. Memories and presumptions flooded in.

There is a bond between a man and his mother that gets many a people miffed, especially female folk who feel that all this works to their disadvantage. The term ‘Daddy’s girl’ doesn’t elicit as much disdain as does ‘Mamma’s boy’. This thought brought him a chuckle as he toyed with the little diadem in his fingers. The ring had symbolised Mamma’s being joined with the man she loved and out of that union, of course, he had come. He remembered the stories he and his Mamma shared, some of them tall tales, which had gotten time to pass and strengthened the bond between them. He remembered the little favours that had brought him joy, for they made him feel special to her. Could anything ever have separated them? Nothing could have. Weren’t there times when she’d had to use the switch on him and moments more when a tongue-lashing got him to the edge of his nerves, yet the friendship had never ended? Such deep reverence for one another it had been, indeed.

The two are a curious lot. She is the other girl in his life, and someone else coming in, just may be in for some competition. Isn’t she, after all, the one person he feels emotionally safe around? He did not have to wonder why this should be so and walked to his bedroom where he tried the ring on; his finger was too fat to go through. With a shrug he sat on the bed and let his mind do some walking.

A man needs affirmation. It just is the kind of fuel that gets him rolling on. He is on top of the world when he gets this boost from time to time. Who gives it to him? Naturally, isn’t it the woman who had first changed his diapers and knows all his weaknesses – yet still makes a king out of him? He is her little hero and without caring to admit it, she is his foremost queen. No cooking matches hers and no care surpasses that which he has known, from her, all his life. The Queen Mother holds clout in the king’s court.

Enter the girlfriend. She needs to be pampered and pleased, and for a moment the scale begins to totter. The game plays out; circumstances begin to, continue to, and finally determine who the real queen is. Does Mamma maintain her throne, or does ‘sugar-pie’ earn her place? This strife had better come early, if it has to, or else life becomes a fight. The war is silent but the fact of it getting loud can never be discounted. This especially happens when burnt toast appears on the breakfast table, and masquerades as a masterpiece of someone’s cooking.

In this scorching sun, the clueless bloke considers himself the victim – as do the other two, of themselves. He loves them both but since one has much experience in matters life he feels she should give chance to the new girl to map out her pathway; the new flame on the other hand, should understand that his mother has raised him all his life and has been dedicated to meeting his needs, he cannot bundle her out so easily. She needs to let him work out a compromise – this without nagging, whining, and berating his performance at being in control of the situation.

A cycle then just may begin, for soon a new boy comes into the hood. As his Daddy is still figuring out which of his girls takes the cream, Mummy is grooming her whelp to be her ‘little man’. He becomes the man who meets her at the door when she is all worn out, the one who pulls her a chair when she can make not one more step. He becomes the one to give her all the tales of the possibilities in life, and one to make her a cup of cocoa to soothe her evening. She, on the other hand becomes his haven of expression. Do we really want to think of what may happen when a princess knocks at the door of his heart?

A lot is hard to understand and a lot of battles are hard to fight. One person is an ally for a moment but turns out the enemy in the next. This is not a battle where one wins and the dust settles; it is one where all win and there is peace or else, all lose and the battle continues for generations.

With a final glance, looking at where the stones were once held, he set to put the ring away. It no longer bore its erstwhile sheen but its value remained ever priceless – in his heart and sight at least. He placed it inside his treasure box and let it rest among the other little objects that helped his mind walk down ‘memory lane’.


2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Njeri on March 23, 2011 at 6:39 pm

    It’s always hard to accept that mama’s gone n she aint hia wit us any longer but all around us we will always find things of every kind to remind us about her, just like the ring. She will always be a QUEEN in her own right.However dear she’ld like to c u grow to be a man in your own right establishment. I think she wouldn’t feel replaced by the new found queen she’ld highly appreciate the advancement. All she’ld need to clarify is that without doubt you are moving in the right direction. No man is an island n 2 are beta than one. I think you are not being fair not to reciprocate a mutual feeling that you both share for what seems to be the fear of the unknown. We all have it sometym but all we need is courage to face the situation with boldness and apply the integrity inculminated in our character, for in any case we neva lived b4; we lack experience. It’s only a one tym thing there are no rehearsals for life. Seems tough but that’s the sheer truth. Just consider what mom wld say if she was around; write it down, mumble it to yourself share it to someone in a story, anything. I don promise you dad’s input to this subject but I shld think that at this age he shld appreciate that you need a companion for life n guide you through, directly or indirectly. However I think you need to change the perception you hold about your self image. You aint no “littleman” cz mom bred you to be an adult proffessional, a KING in your own right. As for the points of difference; I beg you to understand that they will always arise cz we are different in one way or another. All the same immediate and honest communication is essential 4 any rlshp to last. Just try and do away with sweeping matters under the carpet cz when the dirt bulids up; the inevitable is bound to happen, often a bitter disagreement. Am sure u don want that. I apologise for being unreachable but am having quite a workload pls understand. I will access your blog weneva i can n see what I can do. I need you to remember to take everything to God in prayer just like you wld share it to mom or even me. SHALOM. baraka.


    • Thanks for your insight. Let me assure you that my girl and I have the best of times and the struggle depicted in this story does not happen to us.

      I had to put this story because, indeed, there are many out there who struggle to relate with the two ‘queens’ in their lives. If someone could not get a rational explanation, then I believe I have shed some light 😉

      Thanks again and God bless.


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