The Question That Changed Everything: A Festive Season Reflection

The festive season often weaves its magic through the tales we tell—nostalgic, joyous, or bittersweet. For me, it’s always been a period of deep reflection, a time to evaluate the choices that have defined my journey. This year, however, brought a narrative I hadn’t expected, one that rattled my core and compelled me to confront my priorities like never before.

As the breadwinner for my family and a father figure to my nephew and niece, "Uncle" isn’t just a title to them—it’s a synonym for provider, protector, and pillar. When I visit their schools, the name "Uncle Eko" precedes me. Teachers and peers ask about me, curious to know who this figure is in their lives. While I often wonder what stories they share about me, nothing could have prepared me for the story my six-year-old nephew, Arthur, etched into my heart during this holiday season.

After spending a few days with them over Christmas, I had to return to work, even though the festivities were still in full swing. Each morning, as I dressed to leave, I found Arthur watching his cartoons, his wide eyes following me as I moved about. On the morning of my departure, he sat waiting for me, as if holding back his emotions until the last possible moment.

“Uncle, why do you have to leave? Can’t you stay?” His innocent voice carried a weight far beyond his years.

I knelt down, searching for the right words to soften the blow of my answer. “I have to go back to work, Arthur. That’s how I make sure there’s food on the table for you and your sister,” I explained, hoping my honesty would be enough.

But Arthur, in his childlike wisdom, responded with a question that would haunt me for days to come. “Uncle, if I ate less, would you have time to be here more?”

His words were a mirror, reflecting the trade-offs I’ve made and the sacrifices I’ve accepted without question. They revealed a truth I hadn’t dared to confront: the cost of providing for my family had become the absence of my presence.

I hugged him tightly, my heart heavier than it had ever felt, and walked out the door.

That question lingered in my mind long after I returned to work. It wasn’t just Arthur’s innocence that moved me—it was the clarity of his perspective. Time, not money, is the most precious resource we have. And yet, in the hustle of life, we often trade time for things we believe will secure our loved ones’ futures. But at what cost?

Now, I find myself at a crossroads. I want to buy back more of my time—to be there for Arthur and his sister, to create memories that outlive material comforts. The challenge is figuring out where to begin.

Should I explore opportunities that allow me more flexibility? Should I prioritize creating passive income streams to reduce the hours I spend away from home? Or perhaps the answer lies in redefining success—not by what I earn, but by how much time I invest in the people who matter most.

As I navigate this journey, one thing is clear: change is inevitable. Arthur’s question has shifted my perspective, reminding me that while providing is important, being present is priceless.

To anyone reading this, I encourage you to pause and reflect. Are you truly investing your time where it matters most? Life’s most profound lessons often come from the simplest voices—voices like Arthur’s, who remind us that love and presence are the greatest gifts we can give.

I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m determined to find them. For Arthur, for my niece, for my family—and for myself. Because at the end of the day, success isn’t just about putting food on the table; it’s about creating a seat for yourself at that same table, surrounded by those who make life worth living.