It was a day like any other. I woke late on the blissful weekend in my three-bedroom apartment with my pregnant wife beside me. I stretched my hands, kissed her on the head and her heavy pregnancy. I started with a small prayer to God for seeing another day and placed the rest of the day in His hands. Kay, my wife, called out as she tried to stand from the bed and asked for my help to get up. My beautiful black-skinned wife, Jane, is a prayer answered. I couldn't have asked for more; she was supportive through thick and thin.
Jane stood up to freshen up while I went to the kitchen to warm yesterday night's food for her and get ready for her to go out. She owns a store that sells children's clothes and cares for kids, and it's a six-day job with only Sundays off. I started packing her flasks and snacks since our baby needs food to grow.
Jane came out of the room all ready for the day. I dished her a portion of the long grain rice with stew and cow meat. She hastily consumed the food and proceeded to salutations and left for her shop, while I reminded her to back early to avoid the one in life term storm and turbulence that happen yesterday.