As night falls I take my son to the observatory.
Five years old, and he already stands taller than me, but with the fragile appearance of the first generation.
I sweep the sky with my telescope. The ‘new’ constellations still confound me, but I quickly find what I’m looking for.
“Tunde, come and see.” I hold the telescope to him.
He looks into the eyepiece. I chuckle as his mouths forms an O of surprise. A martian of new Africa seeing the old planet for the first time.
“Blue!” he gasps.
“Earth,” I correct, with a pang of loss.


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