My Umbrella

There was once a period that I spent most moments alone.
I was determined to change my circumstances and I was certain that the people around me were consuming my time and resources at the expense of my own personal developement.
I tactically severed myself from having active contact with people that could drain me of my prcious time, but I never withdrew my support, love and relevance.
I would rather wake up an hour earlier than everyone else and ensure that everything we all needed to start the day were set in place.
By the time anybody would be up, I would have rounded up my tasks and was always set to leave for a quiet place where I could think freely and read volumes.
I was always either in a library or a classroom as long as I had free time from lectures. I was still an undergraduate and was aiming at finishing well.
I developed a desire for dressing well and for matching colours as well.
I loved black trousers because the matched every other color.
I always used black shoes, black belts, a blacked strapped wristwatch, a black back bag and a beautiful black umbrella with a polished golden-brown wooden handle.
I always varied the colour of my shirts and ties to suit the occasion.
Whenever I had to put on a black shirt, I reallized that the only tie that could blend was a golden-brown one that matched the colour of my umbrella handle.
I love my umbrella and the effect it created.
It was big when it spreads wide and tall when it stands errect.
It had about twenty-four spokes and looked beautiful from both beneath and above.
The Umbrella was awesome and had a presence that oozed comfort.
It was a true symbol of shelter and confidence.
The Umbrella had become part of my routine costume.
Infact, it was my companion.
In my constant motion and frantic focus towards making a difference, my umbrella was calm and confident.
I never heard my umbrella speak, but I always knew what it said.
It’s constant presence had grown to fondness and it’s silence brought solace.
With it, I was swift and strong; it never would disturb.
But even in it’s silence, I was never void of warmth.
One day, there was an experience and it made me write a poem.
Even though, it’s been been five years now, I’ll try to recall it.
The poem was nice and it made some sense; about my my umbrella.
I’ve lost the note, in which I scribbled it. But I won’t forget my umbrella.

(I’m digging into my memory to check if I’ll find any remnants of the poem. Enjoy what I come up with, though some lines and stanzas are sure lost).


The road is really busy,
with traffic to and fro.
I can see some couples
and quite some singles too.
I’m on this walk all alone,
with my umbrella.

The clouds get thick and gather,
the skies seem to be dark,
the winds are loud and rushing,
everyone is so tensed
and here I still am, walking
with my umbrella.

My mind seems to flutter,
my steps long for haste.
My eyes now look for shelter
my hand is warm and firm.
Be calm like me (with no voice)
said my umbrella.

The skies let loose with water,
the winds are rough with force.
Many people have now scattered,
in search of where to hide.
My hands swing round and a cover comes above
from my umbrella.

There were sounds from all around
but this one was loud and clear;
Can I join you?
Said a sweet voice from behind.
Why would I hesitate,
Under my umbrella?

Now I can laugh and talk
with this person I can touch.
How sweet is this scenario,
good company without stress!
None of these would have been,
without my umbrella?

I reached my dream, still warm and calm.
With fans cheering and grateful hearts!
Though the world was drenched
and so many in distress,
I reached my dream in time and style;
thanks to my umbrella.

-The End!

I must confess; I love this poem, but it’s nothing like the first.
I did my best to recall it all, but this was what I got.
I’ll keep this one and enjoy it, yet I’ll cherish the first.

Age caught up with my umbrella and some spokes pulled from the centre.
I gave it to my mum who stitched it back and used it for a while.
But anytime I think of it, there are memories from the past.
Not just in flashes and in sounds but the comfort it exudes.
It sounds so weired and out of place but my umbrella was my friend.
I still miss it from time to time but I won’t forget it.
Those nice words and sweet scenarios without even a voice.
It’s presence and consistence without being a man.
When people were like pest and all they did was blab,
I had a friend who was different, he was my umbrella.
I still will not forget his words, even though he never spoke.
I knew what he meant and I knew he meant it and that was that to me.
“be calm like me” said my umbrella and that was all that worked.

Life may seem so boring, complicated or lonely.
People around you may not understand or you may not understand them.
Don’t hesitate to look around, there is one faithful friend.
More often than not, you won’t expect the form but everything has it’s place.
People or someone can put a spark in you but don’t think I’m abnormal to have heard an umbrella.
Life is full of surprises, I’ll rather enjoy them.
Align with me and spread the story about my umbrella.

Nnamonu Tochukwu.

About teeceecounsel

Who am I really? Can that be defined yet? Probably by the time I'm long gone and all the pieces of my activities are compiled and analysed then you can know what you want to know about me. Meanwhile, I write. Not because I love writing but because I love people. I love to care and love to share. I'm a deep thinker and I love to believe in the impossible. The ideal is attainable and a shot at it must be given. Don't say 'It won't work' rather ask 'how will it work? Nobody is ever doomed unless they made the choice. To resist good and to adopt evil is already doom. To loose hope is to choose doom but to believe that every step is a passing phase leading towards your hope is to choose progress. I may go on and on but my posts say it all. I don't force you to agree, I only say enjoy!
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6 Responses to My Umbrella

  1. You are a wonderful writer.

  2. violetcactus says:

    it’s… marvellous!
    i wonder if you ever gave your umbrella a name πŸ™‚

  3. Joanne says:

    Thank you so much for pointing me in the direction of this post, I loved it! Isn’t it funny how I asked the question “do you have a place or person who pacifies your mind and soothes your soul?” and you had already written this post, just over a week before?

    I do believe that objects can also have a soul, and I loved this line that you wrote, “I still will not forget his words, even though he never spoke”. I can totally relate, and I’m pleased that your umbrella now has a new home. πŸ™‚

    • Personification is one figure of speech that gives attributes of a human being to an inanimate object. I just used to make use of it as a literary tool until I had an experience with my umbrella. “Things” could be companions at times and “places” could have abilities. Your garden, for instance, has the ability to keep you calm and probably give you some kind of rest or peace of mind that your bed cannot give. Life gets mysterious sometimes. I was just as surprised as you, that I already had the answer to your question, prepared over a week ahead and waiting for the question to be asked. Life is amazing Joanne. Thanks for stopping by and putting a good smile on my face. πŸ™‚

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