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eSPECIALLY: For those who don't

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The other day I was having a conversation about our children - no surprise there - with a close acquaintance, and the topic was focused specifically on our sons. Over the last two years, we've gotten to know each other well and shared quite a bit with each other especially since we work together in the same space. Our children congregate in our classroom straight off of their respective buses daily. If we're teaching, it could become rather chaotic quickly, but we've managed to keep it to a low hum with the help of snacks and alternative entertainment as we finish up for the day. If we're not teaching, which is only on our planning days, then it's usually a lot less noisy and we can be more attentive and in tune with our children. Beyond the most noticable and obvious similarities, such as our Florida connection, being members of sororities, marriage + 2 kids, and being fabulously young, black, and educated, we each have a child with special needs. While
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Runaway Love

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I am a runner. A rusher. A ruiner. When it comes to making difficult, possibly life-changing decisions, I run. No, not down the road in the early evening for cardio, fitness, and mental clarity. I run away from having to make those decisions, or at least I try. I'm most successful with decisions regarding matters of the heart...sometimes, but especially when it's something new. As you may know, the past two years have presented a catalogue of new and different and difficult and uncomfortable, yet refreshing and hopeful and beautiful. "Yet" takes some time to get to, and I believe that is partly the reason for why I run.   The other part is that making a decision that could prove to be detrimental, or just wrong, puts me on edge and makes me feel uneasy. Nothing about it is easy. Or simple. Or fair. Mistakes I can handle, but to mishandle and make a mess of things(and quite literally a fool of myself) , well now that's just something I hate. So, why no
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#FNF

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On a recent visit back "home" to handle business, I stopped by my former employer AKA the last school that I worked at. Everyone that saw me, and I have to say it's been well over a year, commented or complimented me on how I am looking these days. Days . I have lost a considerable amount of weight, my hair has grown longer, I have a bounce in my step, and I guess I look happy and I look good. Good . I count it all joy; and yes, I do feel good and am happy because I just am. Am . I give all credit and all praise to God for that; where I am in life is all because of him and ultimately [read: finally], listening to him and being obedient. One of my co-workers said "I guess this is how it looks when you stress free", and I have to agree, because this is how it is and how it looks to be stress free especially for me. In the words of a young rapper by the name of GloRilla, "I'm F-R-E-E f#ck n---a free", and it's wonderful. It's like reaching a l
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Grief Comes in Waves

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*Note: I started this particular blog post 104 days ago, and I've debated whether or not I should finish and post or let it go. Since you're reading this, you know my choice.* Today marks the last day of the last month of 2022, and for many, the new year is welcomed with the infinite promises of new beginnings and good things. For others, it's a begrudging reminder of who won't be with us in this new year. With time, we learn to adapt and blindly move on from the experiences of the last 365 days; for some, it's twice or thrice as many. Even then, nothing or no one can dictate or control where, or when, or what, or how the grip of grief will squeeze just so; it does and though choices are few on what to do, making the best choice is important. Even with short notice. Grief comes in waves. Small like breaking waves slapping against each other as they approach the shore. High like the crescendo of tidal waves - curling and then crashing with roars that even
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Burden less Answer

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I don't have all the answers, but I'm better. I'm getting better because I'm growing through all the things I've been going through. Even if I could have all the answers, I think that would be such a heavy burden. I wouldn't want that. Plus, not having the answers, but little by little learning or reaching them is the most...[insert adjective here]. Besides, what would I do if I knew everything that I needed to know? As humanly as possible, I'd choose to do what I want. I would, undoubtedly, mess sh-- up. I'm talking the most epic of epic fails outside of the Falcons losing the Super Bowl after having a 20+ point lead over Brady's Patriots. Even the stars are still shaking their pointy heads because they were aligned and the Dirty Birds still blew it.  I digress. I was looking at one of my elementary school portraits, and it's such an awesome thing to see because it's been so long, but I still remember it. I remember that outfit b
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Picture This: Part ✌🏿

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Picture this: March 2021. After 9 PM. He's asleep with the kids in our bed with the TV on of course. TV still on in the living room, so I tidy up. An MK watch. Hmm, this is new and expensive and he didn't say anything about a new watch.  Outside in the truck, in a Vikings bookbag I'd given him was an expensive pair of shoes. Okay, now this is really interesting. He would've told me he'd gotten these shoes. Drum beats or heart beats? In his closet, the box hidden under clothes. In the box, the packing slip with her information. (Yes, I hit her up to let her that I knew, that he was free to be with her, and really...thank you.) Basically, this was a twisted, heartbreaking, sordid version of Blue's Clues, but unlike the last time, I was prepared. It was just what I needed to finally stop fighting against what I knew had to be done. I'd prayed for signs and guidance, and for the previous year or so, I'd denied the very things I'd asked God for. That nigh
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Picture This: Overview (or part one)

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I remember hearing that after the humongous implosion in our marriage relationship in 2017. Picture this: newborn baby, first time mom, and a "workaholic" husband who was working at the wrong thing unaffiliated with clocking in and out for his employers to dictate what could and could not, and should and should not be done at their place of business. McDonald's. Also picture the new mom being afraid to stay home alone with a newborn because, duh, it was all brand new to her, and the philandering husband offers for a random employee to come over to help care for the baby. (This employee was actually his mistress from work with whom he'd made plans and started a family - she was pregnant. Somehow I wasn't allowed to be privy to these plans because, of course, they had nothing to do with me and I would "have to accept the baby if I wanted to be" with the philandering husband. Now, fast forward to late Winter 2021, and on the surface, everything seemed to be
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