When the word battles comes to mind, the least picture I have is beauty. Blood, sweat, tears, fear, uncertainty and a host of other emotions comes to mind. I had only heard of battles till I had to fight myself, unprepared.
Life as I knew it was a bed of roses, a playground if we are speaking extremes, I explored every opportunity to be like the child I was, going against instructions to jump around in the rain, riding my bicycle till mum practically dragged me indoors by my ears, a few spanks here and there but I slept on those roses.
11 years old, Death came knocking and woke me up. The first battle I fought were the tears that formed in my eyes when my dad pulled me into his embrace and whispered
“Somethings just happen in life, mama is dead and had gone to be with the Lord”