I always see people sharing stories about how love found them. I read them quietly and ask myself, “So what about me?”

My life has been simple but not rosy. I am a teacher by day and a security guard by night. My dreams? Well, how can they thrive when I barely sleep? Most of the things I have wanted to do with my life are now patiently waiting at the back of the line. Right now, survival comes first. It’s not just the physical exhaustion, my heart too has taken its fair share of blows.

I’ve loved before, but it didn’t last. Not because I didn’t try. I did my best to make her happy. It just wasn’t enough. She wanted the kind of luxury and comfort my pockets could not afford. They say love don’t cost a thing but the truth is, sometimes love walks away when there’s no security. When she left me, I didn’t blame her. I only resolved not to expect too much from relationships anymore.

Because of my heartbreak, I didn’t make any plans to celebrate my 28th birthday. What’s the point of celebrating if there’s no special person to share the fun with? That was what I thought. I wanted the day to pass quietly. No cake. No outing. No “Happy birthday to you,” song. Just an ordinary day.

Despite my plans, life had a mind of its own.

After class that day, my students asked me to step outside for a moment. I thought they were up to their usual mischief. When they called me back in, what I saw surprised me so much that I almost wept.

On a table was a small cake. And there were colourful balloons tied around for decorations. As I was fumbling for words, they stood across me with the biggest smiles you can imagine. In a chorus, they started singing “Happy Birthday to you” with so much excitement that my heart couldn’t help but feel a burst of joy.

They didn’t have to tell me but I knew they acted out of love. A love so pure it melted my heart. These kids didn’t know the weight I carried every day. They didn’t know about my long nights or the things I silently battle. All they knew was that it was my birthday… and I mattered to them.

And right there, it hit me. I am someone who is loved. It may not be the kind of love I have been looking for, but it is love in its purest form. It’s been there all along — in the laughter of children in school uniforms. In their thoughtfulness. In the way they looked at me as if I were a hero worth celebrating.

I’ve read stories where love finds men. And I too am one of those lucky men.

—Quaye

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