Dealing with Failure

[1 min read]

I was five when it happened,
It was at my aunty's wedding - the one that never smiled.

The usher had passed it to me without a second glance,
A hurried look on her face, like she had other things to attend to.

I didn't mind because I had gotten it.
It was a souvenir, a fan shaped like a hand.
It had five fingers, so it gave me all the high fives my sister never did.
I was having the fun of my life on a windy morning when I was interrupted.

It was my sister.
"Let me see." She said, hand outstretched.

I reluctantly gave it and watched her study the words engraved on my favourite toy,
"Failure is the mother of success." She read aloud.

She nodded and said "So true", her voice barely a murmur.
I didn't understand it, so I asked how

She stopped halfway through her sojourn to the kitchen,
Turned and looked at me like I was five and kept going.

15 years later, I'm a 200 level law student,
My fan and the words it carried lost, almost forgotten.
It was not until I failed my second semester exams,
That I remembered those words etched on my former companion.

I learnt from that experience;
I learnt that I wasn't a failure, I only failed at something;
I learnt that dwelling on failure doesn't make it go away, but getting ahead and
doing better did;

I learnt that I didn't have to prove to anyone that I wasn't a dummy, I just had to work hard and let my results do the talking.

I was honest with myself and corrected what I did wrong or what was right that I didn't do,
I learnt that I was not my second semester result, I was, and am the choices I make,
I learnt that I could choose to make failure the mother of success, I just needed the right attitude.

I would love to tell my sister I found the answer to my question, but she would probably look at me like I'm 20.

And then again, I don't have to prove anything to anyone.

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