Kamaria-
The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the riverbank. The water shimmered like liquid glass, and the air was thick with the scent of earth and fresh grass. I sat beside my father, on the stone steps that led down to the river. His weathered hands gripped a small wooden cup, the one he always used for the river's offering.
It had become a ritual of sorts, this time with him—our time alone, when the world seemed to slow, and the burden of everything else could just fall away. I loved these moments, even though they often carried a weight that hung heavy in the air.
"You've been quiet lately, Kamaria," my father said, his voice soft, a gentle rhythm that matched the rippling of the river. "What's on your mind?"
I shrugged, not knowing how to explain the storm of thoughts swirling inside me. War. Gods. Everything seemed so much bigger than me lately, like I was caught in the tide of something too vast to control.
"I've been thinking about... mother," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes softened as he glanced at me. "Yemoja," he murmured, her name like a prayer on his lips. He looked down at the river for a moment, his mind drifting back in time.
"I met her by the river, you know," he began, his voice distant, as if speaking to the past. "She was like the water itself—fluid, unpredictable, powerful. I remember the first time I saw her. The moonlight was dancing on the water, and there she was, standing alone on the river's edge. Her hair, long and black as night, flowed like the current."
I turned my gaze to the water, picturing her as my father described, the woman who gave me life.
"She didn't speak at first," he continued, his voice now carrying a fond smile, "but there was something about her presence—something that called to me. I'd heard stories of her, of course, but to see her, to stand before her... well, it was like nothing I'd ever known. She was both gentle and fierce, like the river itself—calm on the surface, but deep beneath, filled with untold strength."
I could almost see her, standing there in the moonlight, like a goddess of the river.
"What did you say to her?" I asked, my voice curious, despite the tightness in my chest.
My father laughed softly, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. "I was foolish, as young men often are. I approached her, thinking I had the world figured out. 'The river is not kind to strangers,' I said, trying to sound wise. But she only smiled. That smile… it was like the river had spoken. It told me to be patient."
I smiled, imagining my father, younger, braver, yet just as lost as anyone would be in the presence of Yemoja.
"And then?" I prodded.
He paused for a moment, looking at me with those eyes that always seemed to see more than I could understand. "She spoke to me, Kamaria. Not with words, but with the river itself. She showed me what I could never have known on my own—what it meant to love something so wild and untamed, and yet, to care for it so deeply."
I didn't say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between us, the weight of his words settling over me. I had always wondered what my mother was like—what it meant for her to be a goddess, and for him to be a man who loved her.
"Did you… love her immediately?" I asked, a quiet vulnerability creeping into my voice.
Baba's eyes softened, and for the first time, I saw something like sorrow in them. "I loved her the moment I saw her," he said, his voice steady but full of a quiet emotion I hadn't expected. "But I didn't understand it then. Not fully. Not until she had already shown me who I was—what I was capable of. She was... everything I was not. And yet, she loved me."
My heart skipped at the thought of it. "And you loved her back?"
"I did," he said simply, his voice full of a truth I couldn't ignore. "And that love brought you into this world, Kamaria."
I felt my chest tighten at his words. For a moment, everything felt heavier—the weight of my heritage, the understanding that I was bound to something bigger than myself.
"I miss her," I whispered, my voice catching.
Father placed a hand on my shoulder, steady and warm. "She's always with you. In the river. In the earth. In everything you do."
I nodded, a silent tear slipping down my cheek as I stared into the water, wondering if the currents would carry me back to her one day.