The Mango Tree

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

The compound is quiet without you, but not empty. It’s like a mango tree in dry season — no new fruit yet, but the shade is still here. Everyone is working under it. Nobody is panicking.

Lagos was kind this week. No traffic that made us question our life choices. No light that left and forgot to come back. I closed the files you left behind: supplier sorted, client happy, team paid. The accountant said, “Oga’s table is cleaner even when Oga is away.” That’s your system working, sir.

I hope you’re doing well too. I hope your trip gave you rest, good food, and zero urgent calls. A man cannot pour from an empty cup. So refill yours.

_Que sera, sera._ Whatever will be, will be. We’re not borrowing tomorrow’s trouble today. The work we can do, we’ve done. The rest we leave to time.

Your name is still respected here. Your chair is still yours. The gate is still open, but nothing reckless is walking in.

Come back when you’re ready. The mangoes will be sweeter when you’re here to taste them.

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