LOST IN THE MOMENT.

I stood in a palatial, Victorian-style decorated office block, on the 42nd floor of the CiTi Center building in Downtown Edmonton, facing a tall glass window with its French curtains pulled apart to reveal the Edmonton skyline. Downtown was where the heart of Edmonton was and Edmonton was the capital city of Alberta, a large metropolitan city filled with more professionals and so much expanse of land. It was unlike Toronto, which bustled with the heat and large population of immigrants, or Quebec City, which had lots of Asians going to McGill to become doctors or Concordia to become engineers. The only thing those mega cities on the East coast had over it was a slightly higher temperature range for the weather. It was still a beautiful city, the only place where the temperature would reach a chilly 2 degrees and you could still see the bright sun shining!

Downtown was where the skyscrapers belonged, all standing tall at strategic points overlooking the North Saskatchewan River. It reminded me so much of the days in Onitsha in Nigeria where I would go to Main Market, Ose or the Basilica and it's environs and while walking along the roads made tight by struggling traders, I'd take a moment to watch the waves of the River Niger and the three- to four- or five- storey buildings overlooking the River. I remembered my aunt once told me that those buildings where people lived - some of them looked like they were about to collaspe - were all competing to get a good view of the River and it made me chuckle loudly. However similar, Downtown was still different, probably because it was obodo oyibo where the oyibo couldn't handle such congestion. It was neater and cleaner with plenty more space and fresher air to breathe, but Onitsha had better live and impromptu drama scenes by random inhabitants to display in the public of igwe mmadu - its people.

I'd been standing in the lobby area of Grecian Arch, a large fortune five hundred office block that dealt in furniture, design and interior decoration. I'd spent nearly 2 hours waiting to see the CEO of this rich place after I was told by the receptionist that he was in a meeting, and yet I'd kept on asking myself why I came here and what I was doing here. I didn't just fit in, with my caramel skin where everyone else was oyibo and speaking with the Canadian-style I-wanna-gonna kind of English. I didn't just fit in, with my casual Old Navy blouse draped over black leggings and covered in a leather jacket and Converse sneakers where everyone else wore a suit or some other kind of extremely serious formal wear, the heels of their shoes or stilettos giving the tiled and terrazzo floors a click-clack klonk-klonk sound like the sound of two drum sticks hit together in a continuous rhythmic cycle. I didn't just fit in, with my thick mound of afro where everyone else had smooth and straight hair that was more 'office-like'. This office was too rich, too formal, too plush and everyone that walked past me had on a business-like face that said something like, "If we aren't talking business and money, you have no business here. Next!"

I let myself stare out past the tall windows to look at the North Saskatchewan River, snaking its way through the currents, dividing Downtown in two. Its source should mostly likely be from Saskatchewan Province. I could see the other skyscrapers across the river on the other side. Somewhere in between was a bridge connecting the side where I was to the other side of Downtown. The bridge was designed like a double decker bus - the top had rails specifically for metro trains while below had a road meant for cars and buses. There was another lone bridge some distance away for the long cargo trains. The structure of it all took my mind to the picture of the San Fransisco bridge in California. Infrastructure was top notch. The trees around all had beautiful hues of orange, red and brown leaves that depicted the fall season. The squirrels and little chipmunks had a field day running around the trees and on top of them, even under them. The birds of the air flew graciously over the red horizon, spreading their wings and letting go, not a single care in the world for whoever was watching. The sight was one to behold. If you stopped for a moment to admire the view, you'd be lost like I was.

I fished for the dark brown wallet inside my back pack, my fingers raced gently round the intricate leather design - pure leather designed by the famous  Michael Kors. The man who owned this wallet I was yet to return had to be a man with an exquisite taste in the finest things of life, or so I assumed. I opened it yet again to check every part of it, just to be sure nothing was amiss - an ID card, ATM cards, company cards bearing Grecian Arch and its details, a cheque with the sum of 4,000 Canadian Dollars and 2,000 Canadian dollar notes. My hands were shaky as I counted the notes. I'd never held such a large amount of money. I could recall calling the owner who asked me to come to this office to return it when I found it lying astray beside me in the metro train two days ago. I'd wondered who could have been crazy enough to misplace such valuables. I could almost imagine myself saying, "This one na sanko oh! Kedu ihe patara udi temptation a bikonu?! Hian, Chineke napulu ekwensu ike maka ndu mmadu!" Who wouldn't be tempted to keep such when that big red monster with red horns, yellow eyes, black slits and vampire-like teeth that spoke of darkness and all that is in it crept up into the mind of a sane lady who got on a train and accidentally stumbled upon it? Now I'd been here for the last two hours of my life, trying to do the right thing as my conscience nudged me to.

My hands were still shaky holding the wallet as I turned toward the outside world and breathed a loud sigh, my breath creating a mist on the spotless glass but I could care less. I became impatient. How could one misplace a wallet and then waste the good Samaritan's time like it wasn't important? Some people just had no chill at all, I mused with a slight frown on my face. I looked at my watch again and back up. I sighed once more and decided it was time to hit the road. Whoever, whatever the CEO was would have to come find me. I also had a life too and it didn't include waiting idly around in the lobby of Grecian Arch or whatever the name of the firm was.

I'd taken in enough of the view and turned away toward the exit to the elevators when I bumped into someone with full force, knocking me to the ground, the wallet flying off in a different direction. The man held my arms up for me to stand.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, looking away at the floor, behind and around me to find the wallet. Where'd it go?

"Looking for this?" He asked, holding up the wallet to my face.

"Yes. I'm sorry again," I breathed out, a wash of relief creeping in for the fact that it didn't fall off too far.

"Ogochukwu Onuzulike?" The man asked again and I actually looked at him for the first time. I was thrown aback by the fact that this man was able to pronounce my full name in the typical Igbo way. With my mouth slightly apart, I stared into the face of a man, fair in complexion but not exactly white, his skin was not pale like the oyibo, but with the strong features of a young male - the broad shoulders covered in a navy blue suit, the eyes brown, the jaw line neatly shaved that there was no speck of hair to be found, the cheek aptly defined, the hair a deep  and curly jet black, the mouth full like a typical African man. He looked a little too young, but somehow mature enough, about 29 or 30 give or take. This was definitely not a Canadian, probably once an immigrant that later became a citizen. How on earth could he pronounce my name so well? The hairs on my head made a beeline stand. I stepped back in confusion.

"I'm Chukwudi Francis Obi-Okafor. You just bumped into the CEO of Grecian Arch, the man who misplaced his wallet in a train which you good naturedly found." The man said with a smile.

I noticed the deep voice for the first time, too speechless to speak a word, too overwhelmed to have finally seen someone who pronounced my name so fluently with all the accents and no mistakes, too astonished by how dapper he looked. Afukwana!! Ocha nke a di egwu, like a 3D shock to my medulla!!......

"Alright! Time's up Owh-gowh-chuukwuuuhh!!" Professor Gingras brought me out of my deep reverie, stretching my name out in a failed attempt at pronouncing it while snatching my answer script of the test off the table. Apparently, everyone else had submitted and left.

It just dawned on me that I hadn't answered up to half the questions before my mind veered off. My heart began pounding fast as I dejectedly picked up my bag and left the lecture theatre room for the LRT metro train station. I was doomed in this test all because I got caught lost in the moment.