The Parking Spot

I’m doing well, Steve. Thank you for asking.

You’ll laugh at this. The security guys still leave your parking spot open. Number 4, right by the entrance, with the little faded “Reserved” sign. No one parks there. Even the new MD’s driver asked once and they just said, “Na Steve’s spot.”

Lagos traffic was madness this week, but I got to office early on Tuesday and sat in my car for 5 minutes facing your empty spot. Remember how you used to pull in at 7:30am sharp, coffee in one hand, files in the other, already asking about the day? The lot feels quieter without that.

Work is fine. We hit target. The team is holding up. I’m using that thing you always said: “Don’t manage problems. Solve them once.” It’s saving us a lot of meetings.

I hope you’re doing well. I hope you’re sleeping without an alarm, and walking without rushing, and laughing for no reason. You earned all the slow mornings.

_Que sera, sera._ Whatever will be, will be. The spot will be here. The work will be here. We’ll be here.

Come back and claim it when you’re ready. Or don’t. Just come back and let us see you.

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