Seven has always been my lucky number. My first name, last name, and even my country all have exactly seven letters. Sure, I’ve occasionally entertained the idea of being born in another seven-letter country, like America, but in the end, I’m quite content where I am.

From a young age, I was fascinated by the James Bond franchise, though not for the reasons you might think. It wasn’t the suave, martini-sipping Bond himself who caught my attention, but his iconic 007 codename. In my little world, I daydreamed of joining MI6 and becoming my own version of 007. My favorite drink was—you guessed it—7Up, and it felt like the number seven was just everywhere I turned.

Fast forward to my first year in secondary school. I was in a very competitive class, and after our first term exams, the results came out. There it was, staring me down: a big, bold "7th" right on my report card. I stared back. My dad, well, he wasn’t going to be thrilled. But honestly? I wasn’t even upset. The number was so perfectly me—so cute, so understated, very "demure". How could I be mad? Sure, it wasn’t a top rank, but it was seventh. My number. I was kind of… pleased, if we’re being honest.

Naturally, I decided not to tell my dad. I mean, who wants to deal with that kind of confrontation, right? I figured I could drag it out a bit—maybe forever? But, alas, reality caught up to me. When my dad finally asked about my results, I casually said they weren’t out yet. Little did I realize, my brother had already spilled the beans, and my dad knew the results had been out for weeks. His next words? "Go and bring your result." Ah, that’s when I knew I was done for. What followed was a very traditional Nigerian-style whooping. Let’s just say my dad beat the "7th" right out of me. The following term, I magically shot up to 4th place. By the next, I was 3rd. I don’t think it was the fact that I ranked 7th that got him so riled up, though. It was the lying. Well, that and the audacity to think I could keep that charade going for weeks.

But, despite that little hiccup, my love for the number seven has never wavered. And today, on the seventh day of the tenth month, I’m celebrating another birthday, full of gratitude. Here’s to me and to many more beautiful "sevenths" in the future! 

Happy Birthday, Katrina!

Love, 
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