March

Lately and in the slumber hours, I’ve been struggling to keep my eyes closed.

The mosquitoes soon to be run out of town by the coming winter have been particularly vicious in their death throes. Rain has woken me up though not in a way I dislike. The random aches of ageing have had me tossing about thinking “life. What a roaring scam!” but, more often than not, I’ve found myself jarred awake by something else entirely.

A creeping feeling and gathering dread that has me peering blindly into the refrigerator, watching silently over the snoring city and which renders me bleary-eyed and cranky in the elevator to the fourth floor of Maerua Mall.

That’s where I realise what it is.

The thief of sleep and peace of mind is simply March – the month and the way time seems to do the same thing. Putting one regimented foot in front of the other until we’re almost a quarter of the way through a new year. The perfect time to revisit our new year’s resolutions, check our progress and realign for the next nine months in which we will incubate, nurture and manifest everything we desire.

Pregnant with possibility, in March, the year has still just begun.

January, the broke *ss scoundrel, is long gone. February, the month of love and clawing one’s way back to financial stability, is in the rearview and March, just about over, is the month to consider our hearts, souls and plans for the year in a way that niggles and may keep us up at night if we’ve veered considerably off course.

I have this epiphany riding the elevator to the gym.

I’m crowded in with the after-work crowd all in various stages of shaking off the day. Shirts slightly untucked over straining bellies, the noose of a tie loosened a little as a man prepares to breathe, bright red lipstick not recently reapplied and soon to be dashed off with a clump of wet toilet paper before a vigorous Zumba class.

It’s March, we’re all there and it heartens me because I see these people often.

Not in a way familiar enough for a hallo but as I’m walking towards my desired work-out equipment, tying my shoe laces on the treadmill and in the periphery.

For us, this resolution stuck and it draws my attention to a few more promises to myself that I’m keeping.

A vow to see more of Africa and the joy of having recently returned from Ghana. A promise to have my writing archived on a personal website and marthamukaiwa.com alive, well and racking up views and shares. The intention to be a better friend and actually going out and human-ing every week.

My pledge to be less glorifying of busy and having preceded The Weekender’s dreaded Deadline Tuesday with three episodes of ‘Friends’ watched giggling with my sisters, two glasses of wine and a nutritious dinner I helped prepare.

They’re the big little things and they remind me that I’m doing OK. That I’m rewiring the parts of my brain that feed off stress, thrive on running myself ragged and which leave my heart, soul and social life in the desolate dust.

It’s almost a quarter of the way through the year and there are promises to myself I haven’t kept but there are many that I have.

Big little things that show me that I am growing more confident, capable and loyal to my dreams. Visions of a future that allow for far more rest, happiness and days off in a journey that I am sure of.

Last night I had the best rest I’ve had in a while.

No mosquitoes.

No refrigerators.

No watching the snoring city.

I woke up refreshed, confident and ready to face a life that I am grateful for, an Independence Day I am proud of and a mirror that reflected me back kindlier than before.

If you’ve been sleepless in the surrounds, friend… Maybe it’s just March.

Take stock.

Give kudos.

Keep striving.