Dear learned Kelly,
I hope this finds you well. Right now I am so furiously mad. How can you just leave like that? When you know I will have a couple of problems to deal with. It is not even the end of the month. You did not psychologically prepare me.
Flash back to last month, Tuesday 18th evening. The day you came to help me stay with the baby as I go to work. I know I was desperate to find a person to babysit my Darling Daughter. I took you in with your condition, remember you are in your first trimester.
I vividly remember that evening how I rushed to pick you up from the stage in the company of my sister-in-law. That was fast. Upon arrival, I made you tea and served it with bread. I remember that 100 bob was my last note after spending some good amount looking for someone to sit in for me. I noted the hunger you had (that of a heavily pregnant woman) and you swallowed enormous sips of tea.
All along our rapport had been well until I was told by my hubby that Kelly (not her real name) wanted to leave. Reason, she was being overworked. Wait a minute. Did you wash my clothes? No. Did I send you shopping? No. All you did was babysitting and washing her clothes. As our chats got lively back then you used to tell me that you intended to stay with me as long as I wanted. Foolish me I did not read your lips. Couldn't you just slip a note through my bedroom door to inform you that your stay would come to an end any time soon.
But, just to let you know, I had a lot plans for you and your unborn baby. I even thought of throwing you a baby shower to help you and your kiddo but you acted too fast. Remember every morning I woke up at 5 am, only to prepare baby porridge so as to give you easy time while the baby wakes up. I went an extra mile many times. You didn't see. All you saw was overworking. Okay, you have your rights as a woman and as an individual.
One thing I must laud you is that you kept your pregnancy despite the circumstance you faced. You were all glitter and glamour, a pint-sized model, a P1 professeur (teacher).
The argument that ensued my house on a Sunday afternoon of you not wanting to spend another second in that house is still vivid on my mind. I just looked at you. Since I couldn't argue back, I could be a fool to do so. I never argue with pregnant women. I was there once and I know how it feels when one counters your argument. You are now gone. I always have solutions to my problems. Quick ones and snap another one is en-route.
You didn't allow me to say thanks. I can imagine the one month you've helped me and my daughter, helping where you can. Without you, who could? Thanks a bunch. I appreciate. Ero kamano. I also thank your ex (my bro-in-law) who brought you in to assist me. I salute you (Omondi). I will miss the days you chanted this glorious song with a mellow voice to my daughter the 'Good morning, good morning,(sic) I love you, good morning, I miss you, good morning', even during the afternoon. A good morning song. (Giggles). It really melted my heart.
Yours,
Boss.
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