Childhood, Parenthood

Yes 2 Today~ (T.R.O.Y)

My childhood home burned to the ground last week. It was demolished within 48 hours. I lived there from the day I was born until I turned 15. My grandparents moved out less than 5 years ago. I’ve spent the other half of my life moving back and forth from NY to NJ. I always ended back at my second childhood home throughout my life. That home is only 8 blocks from my first home.

I didn’t walk past my old place as much as I could’ve. I did however walk past it one day after having Baby Light. It was a dreary day in June and the sun was going down. I’d just realized that my step child had skipped school and hid in their bedroom for the entire day. With the anger and frustration from the situation I strapped 5 month old Baby Light to me and just began walking.

When I ended up on my old block I immediately ran into someone from my grammar school on the corner. At this point my husband had met up with me, I’d been out for awhile. During our journey, I told him many stories about my childhood & growing up on the block. Reminiscing of chalk stained cement from hopscotch, trees that I hid behind during hide & seek, tied rope to porches to utilize jumping double dutch with only two people & getting my bike stolen, a slew of memories had gone into an abyss of happiness & mystification.

Some people don’t get the comfort of having things stay the same for such a long period of time. It shaped my adult life. Dreams always related back to those times inside of love, despair, trauma, pain, excitement and every multifaceted area of my life as a young person. I’d always looked at the house as if it had more meaning than it should. It appeared to have a soul when it did not. Two entire decades from the last century were spent there. I guess the memories gave it life. If those walls could speak, they would know to hush.

It burned so badly that it connected to the two other homes it stood next to. Those 2 homes carried many memories of me running in backyards to different cookouts from my neighbors. I enjoyed tons of conversations straight from my windows with best friends. I knew every family on the block & had been in every house. The 80’s and 90’s still had this family aspect where everyone looked out for everyone without a second thought. The intuitiveness of just being genuine came from not having WiFi or so many shows to watch, news to influence & social media to judge.

The home burning to the ground though…
Feels like a person I forgot to speak to for a long time but still fantasized about. Feels like someone I told myself that I’d forgiven for any pain they caused but the scars still keloid. Feels like the walls had too many secrets to hold and the happiest of times couldn’t reconcile what was to come. The karma of it all seems quite sad & coincidental that it would burn down almost a year to the day after the living owners passed on. Maybe some things are suppose to die with people, die with the secrets, & just burn.

It’s like having a planet to move to that was void of pollution & only dwelling in love, yet a tear still sheds to watch the Earth explode. They say home is where the heart is but no one’s heart is ever stagnant. It beats just like the rain against my window used to in my old bedroom on stormy nights.

I feel like I lost a member of my family. And I did. It was a 3 family home. My grandparents lived on the 2nd floor. My mom, brother & I moved from the 3rd floor to the 1st. My aunts & uncle grew up there and I had a plethora of cousins and friends to run up and down the stairs with. My last living grandparent passed on 11 months ago, my aunt passed on 3 wks before him & my step grandmother passed 4 yrs ago. My cousin who I grew up with took care of them all & buried them one by one. (Pray for her as  you read this.) The house had it’s time & so did we. So as I mourn it’s cement and walls, I become very clear on the memories it gave me & the stability my mother enforced within it.

As a mother myself I see ways to recreate my childhood with my children. Things that I want for them come directly from having special moments that mainly my mother conceived from thin air. We intuitively purchased a small Xmas tree to celebrate Xmas for Baby Light this past weekend. In the 7 years that my husband and I have been together we’ve never celebrated Xmas. All of a sudden though, I reminisced of colorful lights illuminating the corner of my old living room. The nostalgia of it all feels good. With time, my memories may fade a bit but I’m fortunate to be able to instill new memories with my newly created family. So as I reminisce over yesterday, I say yes to today to live better & brighter. R.I.P 661 we had an AMAZING run.

Who Are You Gonna Be Today?

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Married Life, Motherhood, Parenthood

It’s Been A Long Time..

I stopped praying at night many moons ago. I began to realize that I spoke with God all day throughout my travels so it became less needed (in my mind) to pray before bed. My soul has always had a spiritual connection to the world so I take heed when warranted. Tonight, I prayed. My mother taught me ‘Our Daily Bread’ at such a young age that even if I never said it again for decades, I’d still remember all the words. I used to say that prayer every night. Then I’d follow it up with blessings for my loved ones who’d passed & everyone else in the world who was alive. I always liked the feeling that I was praying for the world.

I stopped posting for awhile because I didn’t realize that I was about to experience my first summer with children. It’s amazing how you can just take subtleties of life for granted. It’s like one moment I’m in pain, unbeknownst that I’m falling in love. One day I’m in love unclear that I’m about to get married. Next day I’m married unaware I’m about to have full custody of my stepchild. Next month I’m a parent to one, oblivious to the fact that my womb is growing. And poof!!! There’s the family I dreamt of having ever so magically. Summer came & went. I had no forewarning that summers with children of your own could be so merciless! 😳 Finding extra meals to cook, having to listen to continuous blasphemy, all the extra funk, doing extra chores & that’s not even dealing with the children yet. 😋

Trying to comprehend a 15 yr old & 6 month old boy had it’s downfalls & it’s triumphs!!! I thought I lost my mind at many different intervals of the hours turned to days, turned to weeks, turned to months. My hair has grown out my blonde dye where deep dark black roots show. The stress from the children (I like to include my husband in with them) has added about two more gray strands. As Halloween creeps up, the summer just seems like a blur of days that rolled into my past. Seemingly, the boy has grown larger, he’s began his first steps & life is having this mundane effect.

I look forward to getting a chance to floss my teeth, take a long (uninterrupted) shower, wash my hair & possibly do a facial. I know better than to ask for a nap or good sleep. I know I won’t see that for some years to come. Something told me to get back to writing though. Get back to meditating. Get back to yoga. I knew somewhere I’d find me hiding… waiting to see what’s next. Women always have this moment where after they’ve had their children the question becomes “Who am I?”. It’s quite similar to a man having a midlife crisis. If I weren’t a wife, if I weren’t a mother, if I were not a daughter or relative or friend of any sort… Who would I be to myself for myself?

Sometimes when things seem too repetitive, too ordinary, just humdrum, maybe…

Maybe it’s just time to hibernate or as I believe, wait for the change to ‘ vibrate higher’ #Evolve. This caterpillar is sitting & waiting for wings. For now at least… I’ll sit quietly and pray.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” -Anais Nin

Who you gonna be today?

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Married Life, Motherhood, Parenthood

Yea This 1 Right Here Goes Out 2 All The Baby’s​ Daddies, Daddies, Daddies, Daddies…

It’s 4am & I can’t sleep. My son is using my arm as his pillow & the lethargic humidity has finally knocked my husband out. But I’m up unable to fall back asleep. Maybe the reason I can’t is because it’s Father’s Day.  It’s the 3rd Sunday of June & it’s an underappreciated day. So many bitter mothers have made this day seem as though they deserved it along with Mother’s Day or that it was a day undeserving of celebration but on the contrary it’s not.
My father was born in November of 1953. He had a different story than the one I could imagine living. He was raised in Jamaica & lost his own father to a frivolous event at the tender age of seven. I’m not quite sure what he made such a tragic event in his life mean but who he became as a father during my childhood was very special.
I remember many days believing that I needed to defend my father’s honor if anyone ever spoke ill of him. I remember the days I hung out in his arms with no cares in the world. He would come & take me to Brooklyn NY every weekend & summer. I got to experience NY in a completely different way. I was way more advanced in traveling than most of my class men. Getting away so often was a such a great experience for me as child. I think one of the best things he gave me were my older brothers. I had 3 growing up. Watching those boys getting into trouble inevitably turned me into a tomboy. I watched my father scold them about sagging pants. I watched my father try to be  a role model that inspired love, fear & respect to us as children.
It takes just one wrong move during that adolescent stage for a young person to become disappointed by their parents though. Sometimes as adults we can spend a lifetime never forgiving them for the story we made up in our minds about why they failed us. As the story goes on I’d forget all the times he said “I love you”  when no one else’s made a difference. All the times he picked me up when I fell down. All the times I wanted a dollar just to buy a ton of teeth rotting candy. All the times he let me roam free when I wanted to explore.  All those experiences of the rural 80’s in NYC that now look like the best nostalgia to me. I say thank you. For the mistakes that were made, the journey it took you on & the breakdowns on the way, I say thank you. For the effort that was given, the times I didn’t notice, the fights you put up as I became an adult, thank you. For the lessons you learned from your first little girl & the struggles you worked through trying to let me be free, thank you. For those times were I felt “safe!” Thank you. Thank you more than ever for giving me the chance to be a mother & bringing your grandson into this world. I could never repay you for giving me life but I’m grateful.
I know I don’t say it enough or show it enough but I luckily still have time to make up for those moments that I took for granted. As luck would have you’re still around and those flowers that you deserve will be coming soon. I love you Daddy. Happy Father’s Day.
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