Every once in a while, it’s good to break routine and do something a little out of the ordinary. I recently had one of those nights — a proper movie date night with my dear friend. She’s a mum of four (yes, four!), yet somehow manages to carry herself with so much grace and balance that you’d never guess she has such a full plate at home.
Getting ready for the evening felt like its own little adventure. I’m not much of a makeup girl — a touch of colored lip gloss or my trusty MAC lipstick (on a rare day) is about as far as I’ll go. But still, the thrill of dressing up, slipping into something a little special, and stepping out for the night had me grinning like a teenager.
Now, here’s the funny thing: this was not my usual type of movie at all. My little quirk is that I love Nigerian movies. I know, I know — they can be over-the-top, bordering on magical theatre. Someone disappears with a poof of smoke, reappears with dramatic music, and we’re all supposed to pretend it’s normal. But that’s exactly what makes them delightfully silly. They capture the impossibility of ignoring societal influences while giving you a good laugh. My family are the more “sophisticated” ones — the type to keep up with the latest blockbusters on netflix (they’ve changed a bit in recent years, maybe because of life getting busy 😅). Meanwhile, I’m in my corner, cheering on Nollywood like I should get a trophy for supporting my African brothers and sisters.
My siblings are endlessly fascinated (or maybe mildly horrified) that I can sit through an entire Naija movie, engage with it, laugh my head off, and then try to narrate it to them later in my bid to convert them. The deal is: if they want me to watch their serious films, they must review them for me first. If it’s sad, full of tears and heartbreak? ❌ Immediate rejection. I have very little tolerance for negative stuff. I like my world with sunshine and flowers, not tissues and gloom, thank you very much .
So yes, watching a film in an actual cinema — with no silly magic, no exaggerated aunties crying in kitchens, and no poofs of smoke — was a bit of a different experience for me. But honestly? The big screen, the booming sound, the atmosphere… I was completely swept up. It was a reminder that even outside my Nollywood comfort zone, movies can be a joyful escape. So, stepping into a theatre for something “serious” was… let’s just say, a temporary betrayal of my true cinema roots. 🤭
But what made the night truly special was the company. Despite being a mother of four (two in uni), she somehow makes time for everything — her career, her side-hustle, her husband and beautiful children, her beautiful home, her weekend tennis matches, and friendships like ours. Super woman in my eyes. I’ve given her an unspoken right to ask me anything about life (the tough questions included), because I know she wants the best for me. She’s older than me and loves Jesus. I’ve found such depth in a few friendships like this — women who drop wisdom gems in random conversations. She once told me I remind her of her younger self, and honestly? That felt like a gift. We all need a Naomi in our lives, someone who lets us glean as Ruth did. She’s the kind of friend who can laugh with you over the little things, and yet you know she carries wisdom earned from living fully.
Hanging out with her reminded me that sometimes fun is found in the simplest of places — a movie ticket, good company, a shared laugh in the dark and chewing on popcorn. And walking out of that theatre, I felt grateful — not just for the film, but for the kind of friendship that makes even ordinary nights feel extraordinary.
After we were done, her husband came to pick her up — the classic rom-com exit. Me? I hopped into my Uber. The night ended just the way I like it — slow, quiet and beautifully unhurried. When I got home, I slipped into my nocturnal self — the version of me that comes alive when the world goes still. I changed into cozy pajamas, brewed a cup of chamomile tea, and wandered over to the window. From my little second-floor perch, the city hums softly below, but up here, it’s a different world. The tall building nearby tries its best to steal my view, but I still catch a slice of the night — a generous patch of sky scattered with a handful of stubborn stars that refuse to be hidden. And maybe that’s why I love these hours: they remind me that light finds a way, even when something stands in its path.
These late-night moments have become sacred to me. In the past two years, life has shifted pace — a little slower, deeper, more intentional. My circle has grown smaller, but infinitely more intimate.Always the extremely private girl has meant auditing and gently stepping away from a lot, leaving behind only friendships that nourish, voices that speak life, and calm connections that feel less like passing seasons and more like roots. Seasons have a way of doing that — and I’m deeply grateful for the ones whose presence feels like a steady anchor.
And then there’s this funny thing: for the longest time, I thought I was one of the few who came alive at midnight — one of those rare souls whose best thoughts belong to the night. In my defense, I think twilight thinkers are the sharper, more creative ones — the ones who think in constellations and dream in possibilities. And maybe… just maybe… there’s one other who knows exactly what I mean. (Dr.Crows-the bird, I got conferred an honorary PhD after all – for Sleepless Brilliance😊). That brings a smile – the quiet kind you get when a familiar face comes to mind.
Somewhere between the soft hush of the hour and the shimmer of those persistent stars, I found myself thinking of Abraham —That moment when God asked him to step outside his tent at night and look at the stars: “Count them, if you can.” A promise of endless descendants, spoken not under the bright sun, but in the stillness of the night. It hit me — maybe that’s the point. To keep looking up and to see God’s beauty shine in the stillness and the moon light. Life’s not only about the daylight victories, but also about the sparkle we notice when things are quiet and the shine each star has been endowed with.
So, my girls’ night out ended not just with laughter and popcorn, but with a quiet seat by the window, a sliver of night sky,a memory and a heart at peace. In the stillness of my room — wrapped in moonlight, memory, and gratitude — my soul is whole, content and deeply grateful.
Looking back, I see how gently God even on a bumpy path has guided my steps, leading me to rest in green pastures and showing me that His goodness has been woven into every chapter of this year.
No Comments