The biggest right now, is grieving death.

A few years ago, while still living in Georgia, I got a call from my mother that my ex-boyfriend was killed. She and his grandmother had been close, which is why she knew before I did. We started dating when I was fifteen, and had been in and out of a relationship throughout the years. We didn’t end on good terms, but the last time I saw him we were cordial.

I learned very early that he was going down a horrible path. He’d confided in me, I guess thinking I’d be a “ride or die” kinda girl when he told me some of the things he’d done. I wasn’t. Instead I panicked, trying to talk him out of living that way. It frightened me to no end, and all I could think was:

something is going to happen to him.

I think I even cried on that phone call, begging him not to keep doing the things he told me about. He didn’t take me seriously. I remember going to my mother in tears, terrified for him and telling her everything he’d told me. Hours later I got voicemails and phone calls being called everything but my birth name. I was destroyed, not understanding how he could be so angry about me looking out for him. Wasn’t that what a girlfriend was supposed to do?

Needless to say, that was the first time we broke up.

We dated again a few more times after that, the last time with me “holding him down” while he was in prison. I tried my best to be his support system. Letters, phone calls, sending him money when I could. That hadn’t lasted very long before we fell into the same routine of arguing and breaking up for the last time. When he was finally released, I’d heard he was trying to get his life back on track. I spoke to him a time or two before we eventually lost touch.

When I found out he died, I wrested with emotions I never wrestled with before. It’s now in this season that I’m realizing grief and I have a very strange relationship. Yes, I’ve lost people I loved. Somehow along the line, it’s as though I forget about the losses and grief becomes very “out of sight, out of mind”. It’s very hard to explain. With my ex in particular, I get caught between not grasping the fact that he’s no longer here, and the fact that what I thought would happen actually happened.

He didn’t have anymore chances to get his life in order for his family. I didn’t get another opportunity to talk to him, to tell him about Jesus, to let him know he could have so much better for himself. No matter how many times I reversed it in my mind, nothing was bringing him back.

So now I wonder, in that special way that God and I communicate, was he letting me know that this was going to be the outcome. Was this the reason why we never worked out? Was this the reason why he’d often be placed on my heart and I’d just end up praying for him? Was there more I could have done? Did he know how much I cared about his life? Of course, God is the one who’s in control so I know I have no power in the way of being able to convince someone to do something so drastic as to change their lifestyle. That’s in God’s power and His only.

Still I can’t help but wonder: what if one more conversation could have happened? What if one testimony or one plea from the heart could have changed things? What if my own anger, pain, or selfishness kept me from doing one thing that changed it all for him?

The other part of the struggle is how my mind wanders to what his last thoughts might have been. I know that seems strange, and it’s what brings me to tears the most. Did he have a moment of regret, wishing he’d made another choice? Did he cry out to God asking to be saved? Or for forgiveness? For God to get him out? I try not to think of the torment and suffering he’d gone through but sometimes I wish I knew. Maybe if I suffer with what he felt in some weird way, he wouldn’t be alone as he probably felt in that time.

This is the first time I’ve sat with these thoughts, not pushing them away or trying to distract myself with anything else. I think asking the “why” questions in moments like these are pointless. It happened. There’s nothing that can be done to change it, so it makes me want to just forget.

For some reason I can’t forget him. I can’t let go of the fact that it could have been different. Not even for me. He and I weren’t meant to be and I’ve accepted that years ago. Still, his life could have been redeemed. For his daughter. For his brothers. For his mother and grandmother. I can’t let go of the pain of it, not just of his death but the pain of his life, what he must have wrestled with. This is a loss a can’t pacify with “he’s in a better place now” or “ he’s not suffering anymore.”

This is a loss where I’m not able to find peace.

I write about you on my thoughts,

making mental notes of the misery of missing you.

I pour on poetic pages things I think will think me through wanting you

long for you, I do

yearn for the you that knows me because I don’t know myself

and they said if I don’t know myself,

then I don’t know you.

I used to.

I used to know you like song lyrics

but sometimes lyrics lie.

Sometimes poems cry.

Sometimes I think about you

and I just want to

see the tears you say you bottled for me.

I can use them as invisible ink

on the blank pages in front of me because

I want to write about how I miss you,

how I need you,

how I see the words in my head like scattered Scrabble pieces

but I can’t scribe them because I can’t see you.

Sometimes,

trying feels harder than dying,

lying feels harder than trying

and crying….

crying feels.

I don’t want to.

But to cry means I still have you.

It reminds me that you cried too.

That your thoughts are higher,

your way is better

and one day, someday

I’ll be okay again

and I’ll remember you’re close

and I’ll never have to miss you again.

“What are you talking about now? What do you think I don’t know?” Tony said, his brow raised with a side-eye.

“It doesn’t matter, you just have to know that I’m not.”

“You’re talking in circles and it doesn’t make sense. Just tell me what this is. I’m going out on a limb for you right now, you know that right? I’m trying to understand and you’re not giving me anything.”

“Henderson is trying to get rid of me and my family.” I spat out pass the rock sitting in my throat. His eyes narrowed and I was caught in a side eye.

“Henderson. This guy, my homie, the dude that’s been on right hand since I pretty much hand a hand, he’s trying to do what now?” He pointed to Henderson, who sat leaned back in the chair, chewing his toothpick.

“You heard me, me and my family.” I took a step toward him, eyes pierced into his with my hands tucked within themselves. Henderson laughed, his feet moving from the table and pushing him up to stand.

“Look I may not particularly like you all like that but I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t have a reason to do all that, and I don’t even know your family. Yo Tony, she’s talking crazy. I don’t know what’s going on with her but you need to handle that.”

“Handle it? I’m not a situation to just be ‘handled.’” I told him before focusing back on my husband. “Tony, please believe me.”

“Believe you how, Ellison? How do you expect me to believe any of this? Like he said he doesn’t even know your family.”

“Yes he does.” I moved away from him, only to approach Henderson who stood a few feet further away. “I heard you.”

“Heard me, what?” Henderson asked, his eyes scaling me from my feet up.

“Talking about the Manny Graves. I heard you say you wanted to take out the Graves family.”

“Yo, how do you know about that?” His jawline tensed as he closed more of the distance between us. “That ain’t none of your business.”

“Cool off, Henny.” He told Henderson, taking him by the arm and pulling him back. When his eyes came to me I shivered, though not sure if it was from fear or something else.

“What does that have to do with you?” He asked.

My foot went backward, greeting more distance between the three of us. “My real name is Astra,” I met his gaze again, “Astra Alaniah Graves. I’m Manny Graves’s niece.”

“You’re who?” Anthony made a step toward me, both brows raising. I tried to move further away but my body met the wall. My throat jumped as I swallowed what little saliva was in my mouth. His gaze shifted to the ground, eyes darting left and right like he was searching for something. Henderson’s eyes darkened, his lip tucked under his teeth while slowly shaking his head.

“So you’re a liar now, huh?” Henderson asked.

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh yeah, it’s exactly like that.” He pointed his finger at me as he headed in my direction. “You played my boy, like you’re something that you’re not.”

“I went by the name I was given because that’s what I was told to do.”

“Naw, I’m not hearing that. Yo Tony, this is why I said that whole family needs to be dealt with. Your own wife ain’t even loyal.”

“This has nothing to do with loyalty!” I yelled, keeping my feet firm on the ground when Henderson glared. I looked to Tony. “I have done eveyrthing I could to honor you and be faithful to you, not asking you for anything and wanting to do everything I can to make our marriage work.”

“Oh, word? To make our marriage work?”

“Yes,” I assured him, swallowing my nerves and pushing toward him. My trembling hand rose to his face and stroked my thumb across this cheekbone. “You saw something in me that day, when you chose me. I didn’t know why, because it didn’t make any sense that I’d be the woman you’d live your life with but I didn’t take that for granted and I still don’t.”

“Man, he saw that you was fine and thought you were loyal and you proved him wrong. You only doing this to save your little punk family.”

“You’re not going to fault me for trying to protect them, and you’re not going to call out my character just because your shattered ego is out for blood.”

“Girl you lost your mind, who are you talking to?” Henderson yelled, pushing Anthony out of the way and lunging toward me. My feet felt bolted to the floor, and instead of trying to tear them loose, my fist powered forward and landed right against his left jaw. I gasped, looking at my hand like it had a mind of it’s own. Tony stood there with his fist in front of his mouth opened in shock and Henderson adjusting his jaw. His eyes were the darkest to black I’d even seen, aimed toward me. Before I could apologize, I was staring down the barrel of a gun instead of his eyes.

“Henderson put it away. Now.”

“Nah bruh, I ain’t taking that. She think she can just swing on me and not suffer the consequences?” All of us were still, aside from my chest that rose and fell hard and Henny’s thumb pulling back on the hammer of his pistol. “You just have to find yourself another wife, my dude.”

“Tony...” I whispered, feet still stuck in place. My eyes closed, secretly praying that God would forgive me and that even if I died in that moment that He would keep my family alive. When I heard only silence I opened my eyes, seeing nothing but my husband’s back.

“Tony man, what you doing? Move.”

“I said put it down.” That was the lowest I’d ever heard Tony’s tone, his body inching further away from me.

“Hold up, hold up. Are you for real? You’re really about to take her side?”

“You’re not about to pull a gun on my wife and think I’m just gonna step aside. You wrong, Henny.”

“No you’re wrong! This girl ain’t for you, Anthony. She’s using you.”

“You don’t know anything about her.”

“I know she’s playing you, and you’re stupid if you think she’s not going ride you right into the ground. Everything we built, everything we’ve been through to get where we are, I’m not throwing it away for some female.”

“I’m not gonna tell you again, Henderson. Put it down and walk away.” I refused to move, wanting to reach for Tony’s arm or at least step from behind him, for no reason other than stand by the man who was saving my life. It grew quiet again, air so thick it became even harder to breathe. I was able to finally exhale when I saw the back of Henderson’s body as he turned from Anthony and me, leaving the dining room.

My sight lingered on the empty doorway, until Anthony shifted his stance in my direction. I swallowed my courage, meeting his gaze. He just stared a moment, and then looked down at my hand. His mouth didn’t open. He grabbed my hand slowly, lifting it closer to him and examined my knuckles.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant to do that.”

“That’s one heck of a reflex.” His jaw flexed as he spoke, still taking in the sight of my hand like he never saw bruised skin before.

“I don’t know what came over me. I tried to run, but-”

“You were defending yourself. You seem to be doing a lot of that.” He dropped my hand, turning and walking away before I could respond.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you got a lot of explaining to do.” He stood in front of the window, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“I know. Please believe me when I tell you I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to decieve you, I promise.”

“Looks that way.”

“It’s not. I haven’t lived by the name Astra for a very long time, I was still a child. Manny told me it was something that had to be done for the sake of our family, that I’d understand it someday.” I said, taking a few steps to him until I was right beside him. I partly expected him to move away, but there he remained.

“So you were just doing what you were told, right?” He asked.

I looked down at my hands, folding them together. “Have I been any other way than loyal?”

When he faced me, I felt it again. It was more than a shiver, more then goosebumps and butterflies, all the little stupid things girls called it. A look that for most would be intimidating, wasn’t like that for me. It was the same look he had when I said “I do.” It didn’t make sense to me. I searched for anger in him and couldn’t find it. I heard it in his voice when he spoke but in his eyes, it just wasn’t there.

“I don’t want to force anybody to be faithful to me.”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything.”

“I am if the only reason you’re here is because you’re afraid of me.”

“Who said I’m afraid of you?”

“Oh you’re not?” He turned and looked me right in the eyes.

“No, I’m not. If anything I might have been afraid that what you saw in me wasn’t real and that-” I stopped, gaze out the window as I gulped. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Naw, what were you gonna say?” His index finger hooked under my chin, turning my gaze back to him.

“That you don’t love me like you think you do.”

“That’s what you think, huh?”

“I don’t know, Tony. It’s not that I don’t want to believe it, but let’s be real. You choose me to be your wife when you barely knew me. Our honeymoon is probably the best time I’ve ever had in my whole life, and then we get back and I have to jump through hoops just to have one meal with you or see you more than five minutes.” I looked to my feet, shaking my head before closing my eyes. “I can’t even remember the last time you’ve touched me. I don’t want to sound like that needy, clingy girl or whatever but, what do you expect me to think? I’ve never had anybody but you. All I want to do most of the time is be near you, and it seems like you don’t want to be here.”

“I told you what I’ve been trying to do.”

I lifted my head. “Yeah I know, buildlin your legacy the right way and all that, but isn’t that supposed to include me?”

“It does include you.”

“In more than just having someone to be on your arm when you’re out making appearances. I don’t want to feel like I’m some shiny new thing you show off, T. Show me you love me, not the idea of me.” My head went down again.

“Put your head up.” He said, and it didn’t take a full second for me to oblige his request. “I don’t care what you have to say to me, you don’t so looking away. Okay?”

“Okay,” I replied with a nod. “What are you going to do?” I asked. He sighed, licking his lips while he stared into my soul in that strange way that always made me want to melt into him, even in that moment of fearing for my life and the life of my family.

“I need a minute, to think and all that.”

“You want me to go?” I asked, and quickly regretted the question when his eyebrow raised.

“Naw, you’re not going anywhere. Just go upstairs or something. I’ll be up in a minute.” His expression was calm and sure, one I didn’t really expect.

“Okay.” I nodded again, turning away from him when I felt a tug on my arm. I faced him. His eyes were on my skin, his thumb stroking like he wanted to memorize me. I tried not to frown, but just watched him curiously. His grip firmed, pulling me back to him as his other hand slid up my cheek. My lips parted and our eyes locked. I was still stuck in uncertainty about what was next but one thing I was sure of, he was trying to prove me wrong. At least, that was the belief I clung to.

My free hand found itself clutching his sleeve, the other still in his grasp. His lips pressed against themselves, and for the first time I felt him speak through how he looked at me. I squeezed his hand, and seconds later heard him release a breath. He let me go, both arms dropping to his side as he nodded in the direction of the stairs. I hestitated only for a moment before doing what he asked.

Upstairs, I shook out my hands as I moved back and forth across our bedroom floor, fighting to maintain normal breathing. My thoughts were in full prayer mode, begging God for favor. I knew Anthony didn’t want anything to do with the life he left and that he wanted it all to end. Because of the moment we had, I also knew his feelings for me remained. Still, I wasnt sure if it would be enough.

My head turned, taking in the sight of our wedding photo. I walked over to it, picking it up from my nightstand. My fingers grazed over the black-patterned frame as I stared at us. The ends of my mouth curled up, remembering the moment I saw him in that emerald green tux, gold tie and cuff links I couldn’t afford even with a full month’s pay. I was laced and clothed in ivory, a train flowing out of the photo. My eyes were closed but with almost every tooth in full view. He didn’t have a smile exactly but his eyes were on me. No one ever looked at me like that, and something told me that no man ever would.

I heard a knock on the door and almost dropping our picture. Letting out a short huff, I placed the frame back on the stand and went to the door. Normally I’d hear him coming up the stairs, but figured I was so caught up on memory lane that I wasn’t paying attentiion. I thought it sweet that he still knocked first even after months of being married.

“Still a gentleman that knocks even though we-” My breath caught in my throat as I kept a hard grip on the door handle. Henderson glared back at me, his bottom lip clutched between his teeth with hard wrinkles in his forehead.

“So you think you’re about to just bat those lashes and get your way, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you shouldn’t be up here.” I attempted to swing the door closed but his foot caught it, a hard shove causing the door to bash into my head. I stumbled backward, and felt two hands squeeze and toss me around by my arms after the door was slammed shut. My body was thrown on the bed, but I forced my arms to push me upright.

“Tony-” My call for help was cut off by the back of his hand to my cheek. Colliding with the bed again, Henderson flipped and shoved me into the large comforter, fighting to pin my arms behind my back. I pulled my head away from the fabric as much as I could to scream. His body crushed into mine as his hand found my mouth.

“Your whole family is done, you hear me? Starting with you. You should have kept your mouth shut, might have save your life. Tell your God to save you now.” He spat the words in my ear, his body hovering over mine as I wriggled under him. I yanked my head out of his hold, hitting his jaw. When I felt pressure lifting off me I slid from the bed to the floor on my knees. I fought for more air in my lungs, coughing while using the bed to pull myself back on my feet. I yelled when my hair was snatched and I was brought back to the floor.

“Get off me! Tony!” I screamed, swinging my fists to hit any part of him I could reach. His fist connected with my jaw and I groaned, my eyes shut. Then, I heard a hard grunt and a smash into the nightstand. I turned quickly to see the two men tussling next to me. I propped myself up to see Anthony towering over Henderson, pummeling his fist into the man’s face. Over and over again, he hit him. No words. He didn’t even blink. His jaw clenched with his top lip twitching. '

In that moment I saw the man he used to be before me, the one that wanted to be feared and not loved. I knew he didn’t want to be that man anymore. But I also knew he didn’t play about the people that mattered to him. Still, I didn’t want to be the reason he returned to old ways. I snapped out of my shock, leaned forward and attempted to yank him away from Henderson. He put out his left arm to shove me away, but I maneuvered around him and grabbed his face in my hands.

“Anthony, stop. Let him go. This isn’t who you are anymore, remember?” The eyes I saw then weren’t just filled with anger but betrayal, fear and even guilt. That was one I never saw in him. I nodded slowly, watching his eyes search mine was unspoken questions. Henderson just laid there panting and huffing. I stood to my feet, moving my hands from his face to his arms to bring him up with me.

An arm wrapped around my waist and joined us at the hip, stepping back in unison from the man on the floor. Tony glared at him, his chest rising and falling with his breath. I kept an around around his back with the other hand over his chest and up around his neck. He looked at me and me at him. I nodded again, and I f

I’ve never been big on science 
A lot of facts
Complex words with critical meanings 
That makes malfunctions in my brain waves 
I say goodbye to any notion 
That me and science will be friends 
But I do identify with nature 

Flower buds
Rain scents
Insects are gross but grateful for their existence
Because God has reasons for these things
Tree roots and dead trunks 
Dirt 
A surface beneath the surface
Where Spring blooms  
It is the home of beginnings 
Maybe mine just as much as theirs 

My beginning is beginning to begin 
Whirlwinds whirling like wild wires 
I’m wired different 
Stemming from a broken conscience 
That makes science a con 
And I’m an artist so maybe 
It’s a left brain, right brain thing 
I’m just weird 
Unique is the shape of the mind 
That makes me better 
That makes me bolder 

Even when I’m running in circles 
As small as society 
When I’m meant to be as big 
As a galaxy 
What strength it takes to believe 
I’m still orbiting
Spiraling 
and can’t see what’s forward 
Am I still moving forward? 
Or is it better to go up? 

You know, we all love the butterfly
But we never talk about the caterpillar 
The one who is not permitted to leave the ground
But still knows what it means to fly
It waits for its own flight pattern 
Like the patience in space 
Of all the mysteries that await 
In the galaxies above its head 
Maybe it doesn’t know what takes orbit 
In the stars 
How science signs God’s signature in the sky 
It just carries the faith that one day 

It will fly 
But today 
It only dreams of the golden sparkles 
On its future wings 

Whether or not it will circle high 
Away from where it was birthed 
Away from the flower buds 
The rain scents
The insects they call enemies
or friends 
Tree roots and dead trunks 
The dirt  
A surface beneath the surface
Where Spring gives them hope 
As the home of beginnings 
Maybe mine just as much as theirs 

When I really accepted that I’m adopted into the kingdom of God as His child, it really opened me up when it came to our relationship. The way I prayed was different. How I thought about God, and even when I thought about God, shifted. I went from trying to sound nice and perfect, very “spiritual” in my prayers to really talking like I was a child talking to their parent. I rambled on and on, not always in request mode, but becoming more comfortable talking about any and everything that came to mind because I knew He was always there to talk to.

He started to reveal to me when that cycle starts to change.

Spiritual Amnesia is a very real thing, especially when life starts “life-ing”. The harder life gets, the more we are supposed to be at the feet of Jesus. But more often than not, the trials that overload us sometimes push away who we truly are to finding comfort in the memory of who we used to be and the things we used to do.

Who I used to be was a woman that searched the world and every soul for love and validation, attention and stability. Daddy issues, bullying, people pleasing and being used, among so other things defined who I presented myself to be to other people. I was always on the heavier side, being called everything but beautiful for not being smaller. I hated myself for a very long time, yet fought hard for someone to love me, particularly in romantic companionship. There’s no way to find someone to be with you when you can’t even be with yourself.

It took over 30 years to begin believing that I am truly fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalms 139:14), and that God doesn’t make any mistakes when it comes to His creations. Because of these lessons, the need for other people’s presence and approval isn’t something I prioritize as much as I used to. But then life happens, and there’s that one thing that always pulls my heart in many different directions.

Not having someone to “life” with.

We don’t like going through suffering. We’re not supposed to. But it’s another thing to feel like you’re going through by yourself. There’s a lesson in how we handle going through things. That’s when spiritual amnesia comes in. Suffering tries to make us forget. Fear makes us forget. Loneliness makes us forget. Temptation makes us forget. Even a lack of patience can make us forget.

Just like it did with the Israelites. To them, Moses took too long and God was too silent. They felt alone. They didn’t know how to wait on the Lord, and what they thought they needed was more important than God told them about themselves and who they were, and more importantly who He was. God never changed. Who He made us to be never changes. Our hearts and minds do.

This battle is in constant cycle because I’m being trained to handle things differently than I did before. When life got hard, it almost felt like God wasn’t presence just because He didn’t “feel” present. Sometimes you just want a physical person to be there.

It’s as though there’s a disconnect, and I forget that not only am I a physical being but also spiritual creature now that I am in Christ, which means I’m not as disconnected as I think I am. I have to hold to the truth that just because I don’t see God in front of me doesn’t mean I can’t find solace and comfort in Him. In fact, if I believe what the Bible says, I lack nothing. I have more because I have Him, and I have more because I know who I am.

I am God’s daughter, and He is my Father. I am not nor have I ever been going through life alone. So the desire to have a companion isn’t some sinful, unnatural emotion I have to battle. It’s something else I can talk to my Father about trusting that He will bring me the peace I need to face the trial I’m going through with Him.

That knowledge reminds me that it’s not the old lies I used to believe that are keeping me away from my future husband. It’s not me doing anything wrong, or not proving that I’m enough.

It’s simply me being a daughter and my Father already having my future love taken care of. Because of that:

I don’t identify as a lonely woman.

I don’t identify as an ugly woman.

I don’t identify as a hopeless woman.

I don’t identify as an unworthy woman.

I don’t identify as a mistake.

Instead Holy Spirit is reminding me that:

I’m in a season of waiting and preparation. My hope is being renewed. My faith is growing. My heart is learning to be more dependent on God and not myself and being transformed to look more like my Father. In that, I get closer to believing that no matter how life goes, He is really all I need.

It’s a process. A long one, it feels like. But I can say that I’m grateful for it because even lessons like these show that God answers prayers. I prayed to be closer to Him. I prayed that He show me that HE truly is the good shepherd, that He is everything that I need. Everything I used to cope with in the past, everything I sought after gave me nothing that fulfilled me or kept me. Everything was temporarily and as Solomon said, meaningless.

So in that, I am learning to stop being the seeker of anything else that does me more harm than good. I’m learning to not try to be a wife, companion or anything else but a daughter wanting more of her Dad.

Peace and Love, family.

“I didn’t think you’d come. I should stop overestimating you,” she said, eyes still closed.

“Well, there’s not much I can say to that as a dead woman.” Monae replied. Her fingers knit together in her lap, one leg crossed over her thigh as she looked at the sun.

“Death is an interesting thing to joke about, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t consider it a joke at all. How many dead people do you know who schedule daylight conversation?”

“Is this your way of stalling?” Audryana asked, opening her eyes but keeping her gaze toward the sky.

“Perhaps.”

“I’d rather you not. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Yes. Time. What you are most angry at, other than me.”

“I have a right to be, do I not?” Audryana asked.

“You have the freedom to do whatever you choose.”

“Like the choice you made, right? Because we should all be as free-spirited as you. Full of hope and faith. No cares in the world.”

“I may not have been able to choose whether or not to leave this earth Audry, but I did have a choice in its acceptance. Seems to be what you struggle with the most.”

“You don’t know anything about what I struggle with.”

“Oh, but I do. I’ve said some of them already.” Her eyes took in the features of the park, a small curl at the ends of her mouth. “Fear. Death. Time. The lack of control you have over all of it.”

Audry rolled her eyes, bringing the mug to her mouth and sipping her coffee. “How is it that you seem to be so wise now? If you knew this was the burden I carried, why not try to help me?”

“What could I have done?”

“Help me understand, maybe? Fight a little more? Not hid from me. That would have been nice.”

“There are things in life we simply cannot change or manipulate.”

“We could have. But you let time be stolen from us, you let it be taken from me. It’s a cruel joke, and you act like it doesn’t matter.”

“You would have preferred me live in denial? Spend most of my time in and out of every facility you could find, with a gazillion treatments and trials, and all those chemical and junk in my body?”

“I wanted you to act like you didn’t want to leave, Monae.” Her head turned in her sister’s direction, but still refusing to look at her.

“Which is why you behaved like you didn’t me to stay,” Monae replied, still seated watching Audry put down her mug, grab and fiddle with her purse. She opened it, pushing around her wallet, phone, keys, some journals and a pack of tissues. Nothing came out in her hands when she closed it back up. She just held it and focused her attention on the swings. They both breathed in, and deeply exhaled with closed lips.

“You’re still really angry with me.” Monae asked. Audry bowed her head, looking down at the purse as she stroked with her thumbs.

“You always lived like nothing mattered.”

“It’s a shift in mindset. There’s a freedom in just living without expectation, accepting whatever comes your way and embracing it.”

“I hate your shift in mindset.” Audry admitted.

“Why is that?”

“Because you never took anything or anyone seriously.”

‘And?” Monae prodded.

“And nothing.”

“Come on, there’s more.”

“There isn’t.” Audry’s body shifted her weight on the bench to the right of her body.

“Yes there is. I know there is because I can feel it. Plus you haven’t looked at me since I’ve arrived.”

“Whatever, shut up.” Audry shifted to her left, further away from her sister with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyelids slammed shut as she swallowed. Taking in air, she let out a shaky breath aa her foot bounced. Monae sighed.

“Auddie...”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Like you said, we don’t have much time. Come on, talk to me. This is why I’m here.” Monae leaned forward, catching a glisten of the tear Audry failed to keep hidden.

“I can’t believe you never said anything to anyone. Especially me.”

“I never liked to dwell on the heavy. There was far too much life to be lived.”

“What about how I’d feel? Was it always just about you? You thought I’d be fine with you leaving without warning? Without even saying goodbye?”

“And yet we’re here now. You have you chance to say it, to say whatever you want to say.”

“I wanted that chance while you were alive!”

“No, you wanted a reason to never have to say it.”

“Ugh, just shut up. Miss know-it-all angel or whatever the heck you are, you know everything.”

“No, I’m still just your big sister. I just get to fly into another part of destiny.”

“Without me. You left me here, alone. In fear. And you didn’t give a rat’s tail.”

“Audry, look at me.”

“No.”

“Come on, Bird. Look at me. Hey...” Monae said, tone soft, index finger tugging Audry’s chin to face her. Her gaze was met with red eyes.

“What, Monae?”

“It wasn’t my intention to make you feel that way. You know me a little better than that.”

“I thought I did. You were my best friend. You were my boldness. My adventure. My escape. You were my freedom.”

“Which is exactly why I knew it was my time.”

“No. No, I’m not hearing that.” Audry shook her head rapidly. Monae slowly nodded, her smile still present.

“I enjoyed my life, baby. Without any regrets. How long did you think you could just live your life through me?”

“My life was fine the way it was.”

“You weren’t living it. You were existing and allowing life to live without you.”

“I was cautious.”

“You were controlling. You let fear control your ability to just...be.”

“It kept me safe.”

“It blocked your freedom. I blocked your freedom.”

“So you’re saying you gave up so you could—”

“Live. Love. Cry. Get hurt, get mad and forgive.” Monae took her sister’s face and held it in both hands.” Smile, laugh on purpose, all of it. I chose all of those things. I didn’t give up, Audry. I chose to not let an illness define how I chose to live and die. I want you to see that every part of it, good and bad, creates a joy inside of you that is unstoppable. And then you’re just...free to fly.”

Audry wiped her tears with the back of her left hand, sniffling as her brows straightened.

“Hey. Why did the blackbird want to fly?” Monae asked.

“Mo...”

“Come on. Why did the blackbird want to fly?” Her head dipped down, eyes fighting to meet Audry’s as her little sister diverted her sight elsewhere. When their glances locked again, Audry sighed.

“Because of hope,” both recited together. “Hope, fighting for the escape from a dark lie. For the freedom that transcends a caged bird to an infinity sky. To a place where she can just be...”

“...and never have to be asked why.” Audry finished in a whisper, her hands taking hold of Monae’s wrists. Monae closed her eyes as their foreheads leaned against each other.

“I’m sorry it had to happen this may, my love.” Monae said. Audry swallowed down a sob, her grip tightening. The more her fingers squeezed, the less she was able to feel.

“You’re leaving.”

“I’ve done what I was meant to do,” Monae replied.

“And that was?”

Monae pulled back, tilting her head. “To release you.”

“Mo, please...”

“It’s time, my love. You have more courage than you realize, and you won’t find it while you’re still holding onto to me.”

“You can’t ask me to just let you go.”

“I’m not. I’m asking you to go. To fly. Wherever you go, take me with you. Everywhere, I’ll be right there.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. I’ll always be right here.” Monae said, bending Audry’s head down to kiss the top of her hair. Audryana’s sobs echoed through the trees, the birds quiet and the leaves still. There they sat until her cry calmed. Her eyes opened, blinking when she noticed Monae fading away.

“I love you. I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. Take it all with you, on every adventure. It’s time to fly now, Blackbird. Breathe, and fly. Fly on.”

“For you.”

“No. For you.” Monae said. Audry swallowed a sob, a short nod sealing her promise. Her sister’s mouth spread from ear to ear until it completely disappeared. There Audry stayed, fluttering eyes staring at the empty space next to her. The bench was the last thing she saw before her eyes closed again.

Audryana gasped awake, heavily panting and looking around her bedroom filled only by the light of the moon. Her windows were unshaded, illuminating half of the white comforter atop her bed while the rest hid in the shadows. The light of the night also highlighted the beige carpet and her bedroom door. Sweat beads collected around her hair line with a few drips down the sides of her face. Looking around, reality set in.

Pulling her knees in front of her she covered her face with her hands and bawled, her cries mixing with the rain sounds she left playing on her phone. She screamed into her palms, body trembling with her hands against her thighs. Her breathing shortened, forcing her hands to leave her face and grip at her chest. Eyes shooting around the room, she removed the comforter from her body and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. Fingers clung to the corners of the mattress.

“M-m-moonlight. Desk. C-chair. Curtain. Succulent.” She called out. “Rain. Wind against the window. My voice. Breathing.” She looked to the nightstand. Her cellphone rested on the stand, along with her bottle of water, her journal, a lamp and picture of Monae holding her while on the swing. She took it, bringing it herself with the other hand still holding onto her bed.

“Bed. Frame. Glass” Her thumb stroked over Monae’s face, curls blown to the left with her head tilted. Hardly any teeth were hidden in her smile. Audryana’s smile was soft. No teeth, but her head leaned back against her older sister’s chest. She gripped it and held it against her, almost breathless sobs over powering the YouTube video still playing.

‘It’s time to fly now, Blackbird. Breathe, and fly...’ the whisper floated through the room. It repeated, and with the soft sound of Monae’s voice, Audryana’s breathing slowed and her crying settled into whimpers. She dropped the picture from her chest and narrowed her eyelids to see through the blurry haze of her tears.

“Breathe, and fly...” she said. With her other hand free, she reached for her chest and took air into her lungs, as much as she could. Then she released slowly. Once more she inhaled until she couldn’t anymore. Then holding it, she closed her eyes and thought of the last smile she saw in her dreams of Monae, matching the one in the photo. “I love you. I promise, I’ll...I’ll fly. I’ll fly for you. Just don’t leave me.”

There was a short line outside of Genevieve’s Lounge, security checking identification. Audryana kept hers tight in her fingers, her clutch hanging from the straps over her shoulder. Her head rose to see she was next to be let in. The neon sign blinked to the side of the gaurd, vines wrapped around the lettering. She blew out a quick breath, digging into her bag to find phone. She snapped a picture of the sign quickly as the patron in front of her entered the building.

“Identification, please.” The man said. Audry handed it over, gulping as she watched him. Taking her ID, his finger scrolled through the iPad screen. “Audry Phillips? Are you related to Blackbird?”

“I am. She was my sister.” I said.

“Wow. She was a legend around here.”

“She was. Never one like her.”

“I see you’re on the open-mic list.”

“I am, yes.” She replied with a nod. He also nodded, opening the folder tucked behind the tablet. He pulled a red wristband strip from the pack and closed the folder again.

“Wrist, please.” He said to her. She hesitated, slowly lifting her hand to him. She watched him remove the adhesive strip from the band and place it around her wrist. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” she replied and pushed her license back in her wallet, tossing her clutch toward her back. The melodic dance of a saxophone, trumpet, piano, double bass and guitar invited her into a narrow foyer. Breathing in, she was met with the aroma of cinnamon and vanilla sugar and Old Spice that lingered from the couple that passed her. She moved down a narrow hallway, walls draped with leaf vines and black and white photographs.

Jazz performers. Dancers. Poets. Musicians. She kept an even peace as she took in each one, swallowing her intimidation. At the last picture she stopped and turned to face the wall. She moved a little closer to let others pass and enter the lounge. She read the inscription under the photo.

“Monae ‘Blackbird’ Philips: Our Beloved Songstress, Musician and Free Spirit. Fly on, Blackbird.”

A single tear fell down Audryana’s cheek, and she smoothed it away before it could leave her cheekbone. Her eyes when back to the image of her sister, a hand on the microphone and the other in the air. Her eyes were closed and mouth hung open, but a smile remained.

“You really did know how to fly, huh? ” She said to herself, a smile emerging with a chuckle leaving her throat. “I guess it really is my turn, now.” She looked toward the open venue, a large stage in the back filled with musicians and their instruments, tables and chairs filling the empty space.

“This is for us, Mo.” She said, taking a long breath and a step into the room.

I wonder if the trees cried out
Weeping willowed rivers of
Blood, sweat and tears
As creation’s creator carried
The cruelest of crimes to the cross
 A cross carved from the bark
That was breathed into being
For us to witness beauty
In a beaten world
Yet it held him high
So we can be held close to His bosom
And behold Him in all of His glory
 
I wonder if the tomb wailed
Or if the stone that sealed
Isaiah’s prophecies was soaked in sorrow
Did it scream
Seeing Jesus
The one once laid
Wrapped in cloth resting in a manger
Now wrapped in cloth seeping with crimson
Because they know
They know the length of the train of His robe
And the seat of gold He’s to be bestowed
And the angels and elders who bow to his throne
 
Did the oceans roar
For the man who called it to be still
And pulled from it  
Fish for the fishermen
Who became fishers of men
Yet deserted the very one
Who called them fishers of men
Did their waves wage war
Because the Prince of Peace was ignored
Because we crowned Him with thorns
While we were adorned by His love  
 
Did the sun shed tears
Because the one it worshipped
Was weary
Stung by the stench of torn flesh
Agony etched in His soul
Through every scar
That made Him nearly unknown
But the skies knew
Just like the trees
And the tomb
And the ocean, too
 
That with each lash
Jesus said “I love you”
With each prick of the thorny crown
He said “I forgive you”
And with the blade in His side
I wonder if the rocks cried
Because He cried
Because He died
 
I wonder if creation cried
When it saw
It’s creator
Our savior
Still alive
 
Because they cried
Because He cried
We cry
Hosanna
In the highest
Let our King be lifted up
Oh Hosanna
 
 
 
 

We talked about marriage seven months after we became a couple officially. I knew everything she wanted when it came to making her moment special, even down to the ring. Although I never out-right said I wanted to marry her one day, there was no doubt that both of us knew we were it, that there would never be no one else for either of us.

So it completely threw me when she didn’t say yes. I was on my knees trying to make it make sense, going over every detail of what I planned. The seafood dinner we had, the Winnie the Pooh and Piglet plushie thing I bought her, even contemplated what happened the entire day before she came over to see if there was any sign that she was mad at me about something. She apologized to me, and walked away like it pained her to look at me. So I went to her determined to figure out what she was afraid of all of a sudden.

That’s when she told me that she lied to me. After two years of knowing her, a year of being together, she told me about the men she was seeing while we were just friends. I remember looking around the room like I was searching for the hidden camera, thinking maybe she was trying some sort of social media trend. I didn’t want to accept that the whole time, what she said was real. I asked her why she didn’t tell me about it, and why she thought then was the time to tell me.

The men she fooled around with were still reaching out to her. Sending pictures. Wanting to show her what she was missing, I guess. I asked for her phone and saw the thread she deleted, and I almost chucked it at the TV in my living room. Message after message, he was practically begging her to see him again.

She never responded, but it didn’t change how I felt. Another man was after the woman I was praying every day for the courage to propose to for five months straight. and she kept it from me. It was hard to look at her. Not just because I was mad, but because I couldn’t watch her cry. Imagine that. With everything I felt, I still couldn’t see her in pain. She asked me if I wanted her to go.

I didn’t know what I wanted. But when she assured me she had nothing else to confess, I knew I needed time to process. Until her, I didn’t do a lot of that out loud. I needed quiet time to think things through, talk to God, maybe hit the bag or the gym.

“I love you, Darius. With everything in me, I love you so much.” She told me before she left. The words danced around my head like the stars in those old cartoons after a character gets knocked out.

“Is that enough, though?” I asked her, with no intention of getting an answer. She left in sobs and I felt like a fool. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I kept asking myself if I was right. Was it enough that she loved me? Was it enough that she didn’t want to hurt me by the truth, or didn’t want me to see her a certain way?

I convinced myself that I wasn’t wrong, that she should have known me better than that. One thing about Clia and I, if we didn’t do anything else, we made sure we talked about everything. So I believed. I thought she knew my character, that I would never judge her for the person she was before she met me or decided to be my girlfriend.

Two days after the epic proposal fail I set up a time to hang with my mentor, Sawyer, and my friend Timothy. They were the closest thing to a family I had, Sawyer being the father figure and Timothy being the wisest, kindest, youngest dude on the planet. I met them both when I decided to take those grief sessions at New Life Community Church, the place where I gave my life to Christ. We agreed to meet up at the neighorhood park on the bleachers of the baseball field. They were watching a practice when I got there.

“Hey, there he is.” Timothy said, both of them standing at the top of the bleachers.

I climbed up the concrete stairs in the center and greeted them both with a hug. “Hey. Thank you guys so much for coming.”

“Of course, not a problem.” Sawyer said, sighing as he gave me a pat on the shoulder and holding it with a nudge. “How’re you doing, son? Can’t imagine you feel like a million bucks.”

“Yeah, you can say something like that.” I said as I sat down. “Feels kind of weird to be so mad, you know?”

“How do you mean?” Tim asked, sitting next to me while Sawyer sat on the metal seat below us.

“I don’t know. I keep asking myself why she lied. Even though she told me, it still doesn’t make sense.”

“What did she say her reason was?”

“She didn’t know how I would look at her, like I would judge her for it and change my mind about being with her. She said she was ashamed, and she didn’t want to make me mad.”

“Well of course a woman wouldn’t want to give her man any reason to doubt who she is or judge her for the mistakes she’s made. That’s how anyone would feel.” Sawyer said, sounding like a true pastor.

“But it feels like she was just giving me a piece of herself and not all of her. That ain’t cool, especially when I gave her the opportunity to talk to me. If I’m giving you all of me, why can’t you do the same?”

“Did you tell her how you felt about it?”

“Yeah, and she just kept apologizing. I told her it’s not even about what she did with those dudes. She didn’t trust me to give me all of herself, all this time.” I shook my head, looked down at the years-old gum stain on the concrete under our feet.

“You said she never spoke to these men after you both became committed to each other?” Tim asked. He was always the one who dug deep with the questions.

“Yeah. I saw the messages and everything. Still man, I don’t know. She said there was nothing else but how can I believe that?” I looked between both of them, Tim’s eyes down and narrow and Sawyer looking at me. “It just ruined everything I had for us. If she would have just told me sooner we would be engaged right now. Now I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I can understand feeling like the trust is broken, Darius.” Sawyer patted my knees. “It’s something you both should revisit in conversation. You know what they say about communication. But I want to ask if I can challenge you a bit here for a moment?”

“Am I going to like this?” I asked him with my brow raised. Both of them just laughed.

“Just go with me for a second. You really love this woman, and she loves you, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, I believe she does. But like I told her, is that enough if she can’t trust me?”

“What is love, Darius?”

“Man Sawyer, why are you asking me that? That’s so corny.”

He held his hands up in the air a second or so before putting them back down on his lap. “Hold on, hold on. I’m serious, think about it. What is love?” He asked. I rolled my eyes and thought about his question.

“It’s patient, it’s kind, it-”

“What was that first one?” He asked, and I sighed, looking out at the field.

“Patient. Love is patient.”

“Do you not think so?”

“I mean of course I do, I believe it’s supposed to be. I want to be but I gave her a lot, Sawyer.”

“You started your own process and journey to be the man you’re called to be. She has her own path too, and it’s not going to go the same way yours is going.”

“But I’ve done my changing, though.” I said. The father and son looked at each other, and then looked at me. “What?”

“You mean you’ve started? You’ve started changing...” Tim said as he eyed me.

“No? I mean I’ve changed. I’ve done the support group, I’ve given my life and all that. I’m healed.” I gave them both a look that said ‘I meant what I said’. When they both laughed I knew my little look of intimidation meant crap.

“D I have to be honest, if that’s what you really feel then we have a lot more work to do.” Sawyer said. “It takes a lot more than a grieving support group and a few church services to go through a transformation, especially for believers. This is an everyday, ongoing thing.”

“What exactly do you think you’re grown from?” Tim asked.

“From the old life I used to live. I’m not that guy.”

“You may be on a different path with God, which is amazing. But we’re still human. There are still things within each of us that we have to overcome.”

“Like?”

“Like, what are you really mad about”

“I told you guys this already. This lie ruined the proposal.”

“Ah, so you’re more upset that the proposal didn’t go as planned, or about the secret you discovered?” Tim asked. I started to answer him, but then my eyes thinned looking at him. I sat there, straightened my back and gnawed on my tongue. They didn’t do anything but rest there and watch me think.

“I mean, I guess both. Like I said, I’m supposed to be her fiancée right now, and I’m not because she doesn’t trust me. She gave up, didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself to her, you know?”

“Darius you haven’t faced rejection much, have you?” Tim said as he stood, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“What? No. Well yeah, I guess. Not really.”

“Because if I recall,” Sawyer said with both eyebrows high, “you’ve had very many, dare I say unhealthy, encounters with female companions.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was the worst. Before Clia, and before God, I took every woman who gave themselves to me. Some I chased, and some I let chase me. Growing up where I did, the more women you had the more powerful of a man you were. For me, it was an addiction that ate at me since I was twelve.

I hurt so many people that I thought the guilt would disappear if I just slept with someone else, let them feed my ego. I never stayed with a woman more than a month or so. Finally, God got to me when I got a woman pregnant. I found out it was a girl, and that was the first time I ever prayed. I asked God to help me be a better man, be a good father so that my daughter didn’t grow up to have a man like me in her future. It was as if she was the light flashing before my eyes, exposing all of my dirt. I wanted her to have a better father than I did.

God took her from us a month after she was born. She was born seven weeks early, and lived in the NICU her whole life due to respiratory distress syndrome. I spent every moment in the hospital that I could. When it was time to say goodbye I couldn’t do it, and neither could her mother. It was the hardest I’d ever had to grieve, and the angriest I’d ever been. Her mother wanted nothing to do with me after that. I couldn’t blame her with everything I’d put her through. The guilt of it all hit me like a train wreck, and that was the first time I really saw all of myself. It almost destroyed me. Until God.

When I let Clia in to that part of my past, I thought she would tell me I wasn’t crap and get rid of me. I was ready for it. But she asked me one question, and I gave my answer. That was it for her.

“Is that the man you are now?” She asked.

‘No.” I replied.

“I’m not really worried about it, then.” That was all she said.

I gave Sawyer a look with a sigh. “Okay so, maybe not.” I finally said after quietly traveling memory lane.

“So it’s very possible that this triggers more than just a feeling of betrayal. Of course, that’s not your only feelings but, could it be that the woman you’ve actually committed to for the first time, caused you a pain you never felt before? You tried to prove who you are and through all of your efforts, and you feel like that wasn’t enough. You weren’t enough. Hence, feeling rejected.” Sawyer kept his eyes on me. I felt them, but I didn’t meet them.

I zoned in on the bench he was sitting on and gulped, biting my lip. We didn’t hear anything for a few minutes, other than the commotion on the field. I just sat there. Sawyer moved from the metal seat in front of me and perched himself next to me, a hand on my shoulder as he tilted his head forward. Tim was pacing along the bleacher mumbling to himself. I knew he was praying.

“This can’t just be because she didn’t say yes.”

“Not completely. But one way to begin moving forward in a situation is to really understand it. We can’t address what to do with the problem if we don’t know the root of it.” His hand tightened on my shoulder. Tim came over to sit on the other side of me. “Clia didn’t choose someone else over you.”

“Oh, nah?”

“No. You see it as her protecting someone else.”

“I see it as her protecting herself from me. Like she said she doesn’t see me for who I was but maybe she actually does. She thinks I’m still that dude.”

Sawyer leaned a little closer to my ear. “She was protecting herself from the same thing you feel right now.” Sawyer said. That’s when I met his eyes. “Rejection is likely not as unfamiliar to her as it is to you. Think about it. Didn’t you tell us you are the first real love she’s ever had? From a 30-year-old woman, there has to be more of a story there.”

“Then why don’t I know?”

“Because for some, trust is harder to form. Do you remember how hard it was for you to accept that Tim and I didn’t want anything from you but to just be your community?”

“Yeah, I remember.” I said, rolling my eyes but I chuckled a little.

“Man, took almost a year for the man to accept a hug.” Tim added as he laughed. Sawyer and I joined him.

“My point is this,” Sawyer turned himself to face me head on, “if you know in your soul and spirit that this woman is the one God sent for you, then you’re called to love her like...” He moved his hand in a slow forward motion.

“Like Christ loved the church.” I said with a nod.

“And how Christ loves us is not by anything we did or didn’t do, but through seeing us for who we are to Him.”

“Is this just your way of telling me to forgive her?”

“No. More than that.” Tim interjected. “See her for who she, how God sees her. Not for her mistakes and shortcomings. Didn’t she do the same for you?”

“Come on man, you didn’t have to do me like that.”

“It’s not a rebuke or a tit-for-tat kind of thing. It’s to help you to see the truth. We know Clia loves you. You know she loves you.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“So, start praying that God reminds you of the woman you love, the woman you’re called to adore in the same way He adores you. Think about what you’ve learned about her character, ask Him to help you love her through this.”

“I’m almost positive she’s being harder on herself than you are.” Tim said.

“You’re right. I’ve never seen her look and feel so guilty.” I said. They both nodded.

“She’s on a healing path, same as you.” Sawyer said as he stood. “It’s going to take some patience, understanding and grace. Even if you’re still working on forgiving her, it doesn’t mean things have to end. It just means-”

“It’s time to fight, as you always say.” I said. I got up too, and Tim did the same.

“Now you have your assignment. Do what you need to do, and go get your woman.” Those were Sawyer’s final words to me before we split up, praying over me when we got to our cars. I prayed the whole way to my apartment.

Two days later I went to work, did my thing, and left at normal time like a typical day. I stayed in my car after I parked when I saw Clia sent me a voice memo. The day I came home from meeting the guys, I told her I needed space and she hadn’t said anything since then. It wasn’t that I wanted to push her away, but I knew I needed time to sit with everything. Tim and Sawyer were right.

It didn’t change what I felt when I thought about that night. My body tensed up like I wanted to fight. I rolled the window down and let my head fall back against the headrest, taking a deep breath and staring up at the ceiling of my Kia. For a minute I just listened to the neighborhood kids screaming up and down the sidewalk and some guys ranting and raving about which one of them used to play ball better.

I kept thinking about the times Clia and I would just chill in the car and talk about any and everything. In times like this, she would watch the kids play and think about her childhood, or bring up hypothetical situations with the two of us. I sighed, finally looking at my phone again. I stared at the blue bubble for about 30 seconds before pressing play.

“Hey Darius. I know you said to give you your space and I want to respect that. But I do think I owe you this so please bear with me. I’m very sorry that I lied to you.”

I pressed pause. Then I took a breath and prayed that I could handle whatever she said. I pressed play again.

“You’re right. I should have trusted you. Really it’s more that I should have trusted that I know you more than I believe I do sometimes. You’ve shown me nothing but yourself from the beginning. I think for a while I adored that. But then it started to terrify me. Like you were too good for me. You’re right, I know. I was overthinking it like I always do.”

‘Yeah you really do,’ I thought.

“The truth is I never forgave myself for what I did with those men, so I couldn’t believe that you would. I should have trusted you more. Again baby, I’m so sorry. Even if you take back the proposal, I really just hope you can forgive me and know that I never, ever meant to hurt you. The way I love you is scary, Darius. I never thought I’d be in love, let alone have someone who wanted to stick around and marry me. But I am, I’m so in love with you that it doesn’t make sense and I’m thankful for you every single day. So yeah, I just wanted to leave you with that. No matter what you decide, I love you with everything in me, D. Okay, talk soon. We love you.”

Getting voice memos from her always made my day. It was the intentionality, you know? Even if we didn’t have time to have a full conversation, she allowed me to hear her voice which was always so soothing to me. On hard days, where she knew I just wasn’t feeling like much or I was stressed like crazy, she’d send me a prayer and end it with “we love you”, referring to God and herself. When she first started doing that I didn’t say anything about it. About the third or forth time I asked her about it. That’s when it was confirmed that she was meant to be mine.

‘She still is,” He said. I sighed.

‘God, she doesn’t trust me. What do I do with that?’

‘Give her to me.’

‘I’m trying to, God. I really am. I don’t want her scared of me like that. I know I’m not perfect but I’m not that bad, am I? And how do I know she doesn’t just want attention from that dude? Maybe she likes that or something.’

‘What did you say about her knowing your character?’

‘Um...I said that she should know me enough to know I’m not like that.’

Crickets.

‘Really, God?’

“Have I not shown you her character?’

‘I mean, yeah. Yeah, I guess you did. I know she ain’t like that.’

‘I’m not calling you to love her perfect. I’m calling you to love her like I do. It’s not about you.’ He said. I let out a long breath.

‘Well dang. Did you have to say it like that?’ I raised a brow to the air. ‘Alright, okay. So what do you want me to do?’ I asked. It was quiet for a while, so I stayed there. Almost an hour went by.

‘God, tell me what I should do.’

‘The last thing I asked you to do.’ He said. I nodded, getting what He meant.

‘Well alright then. When?’

Crickets again. I threw my hands in the air and shook my head.

‘Well I’m going in the house now.’ I said as I opened the door, grabbing my workbag from the front seat and slugging it over my shoulder as I got out.

Though I tried not to, I searched around the sanctuary for her after I found a seat. The usher led me to one of the middle rows in the center of the room, not where we’d usually sit but I came late. One of the greeters asked about Clia when she saw me, and I just told her we came separately. Seven days passed since the last time I saw her, and I hadn’t responded to her voice memo. I called myself praying for her, hoping that what happened with us wasn’t the reason she didn’t come.

I surveyed the room a little more before I called it and just focused on worship. Our church was a larger one, seating almost a thousand people in one space and was filled to capacity every week. The team was in the middle of singing “Spirit Lead Me” when I really tuned in. I watched the worship leader get to his knees, a hand out to the sky and the other on his chest repeating the words:

Spirit lead me.

Spirit lead me.

I sat down, clasping my hands together with my arms on my thighs. I closed my eyes and said the words in my head, over and over again. It came to me all the ways I needed God to lead. It wasn’t just with Clia, but with my own feelings. I needed him to lead me in loving her, but also in how I conducted myself. I needed led with my own heart. Sawyer’s word were brought to mind. I was not done figuring things out and I still hadn’t forgiven myself. So how was it cool for me to not give her the same grace? I wasn’t done growing. Neither was she. We were both in it together.

‘Do you love her?’ He asked.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Do you love her?’ He asked again.

‘Yeah Lord, I do.’

‘Do you love her?’ He asked a third time.

‘Yes Lord, I love her, you know I do.’

‘Then follow my lead. Let me teach you how to love her, and yourself.’ That was the last thing I heard him say, though I stayed in that position for the rest of worship until the pastor came to the platform.

After the gathering ended I made a run for it, wanting to get out of there before anybody else asked me about her or tried to talk. My fast was over and I was starving. I grabbed my phone out my pocket as I powered through the parking lot, scanning for places close by I could find food.

‘Go to her.’ He said.

‘Right now?’ I asked.

‘Right now.’

‘Alright God, but I’m hungry though.’

Crickets. I groaned, dropping my head back with my eyes opened to the clouds. “Alright, alright. I’m going.” I said and kept moving to the car.

I was nervous the whole way there, trying to figure out what to say to her and not talk myself out of going. I kept wondering what would happen if she still didn’t say yes, or if she decided to break things off completely because I hadn’t talked to her in a week. Every reason to back out came up. But, I had to be obedient and truthfully, I missed her more than I was willing to say. I parked in the visitor’s section of the garage under her building. There were elevators secured with a key code to get to the condos. I entered the code I had and the door opened. I got in, pressing the “9” button.

On that ride up, it was like God was playing a memory reel in my brain. He took me to the first time she prepared a date for us. The pasta was almost mush and the chicken wasn’t completely done. The biscuits were crisp and mashed potatoes clunky. She thought I would break up with her and cried like a baby, saying she tried so hard to make everything perfect for me. I just held her and told her I would see her the next day and took her to her favorite pizza spot.

Then He took me to the day that she and her friends were planning Tara’s surprise birthday party. She barely got a full eight hours of sleep the whole week before and invested her entire paycheck to make sure her friend was well celebrated. I remember the tears she got from Tara, who said nobody ever did anything like that for her before. Despite all the craziness she dealt with that week, including Tara almost finding out twice and having to find another venue last minute, that one moment made Clia’s month. She couldn’t stop talking about how happy her friend was.

Last thing He showed me was the day I came back to town from my trip back home. I as mad, overwhelmed and didn’t want to be bothered. I wanted so bad to drink it off. That night she texted me, saying she knew I wasn’t okay and she wanted to be there for me. We were still getting to know each other on a dating level. Something told me to just be honest about the fact that I was hating the world and just wanted to hit up a bar.

An half-hour later she showed up at my doorstep and suggested we’d take a walk. She stayed with me for over two hours, not saying a word because she was learning how I processed things. Her presence was more than enough. Afterwards we went to a late night diner and she let me talk, vent, all the things. Before we went our separate ways, she prayed over me thanking God that I didn’t make a decision to do something that would have hurt me later, and for getting the chance to learn more about me.

​When I got to her door I breathed out hard. ‘Okay Lord, help me out here. What if she says no again?’

‘Trust me.’

‘Okay. Well what should I say to her?”

‘Remind her that you know her character.’ He said.

‘Okay, cool.’ I said before knocking.

Life is created. Lives are lost. Friendships form. Jobs end. Moves are made. The possibilities are endless, and even when it is not welcomed, it pushes us, and sometimes forces us into a place of revealing the hidden parts of our character.

There are people who love change, embrace it like a new hairdo that looked nothing like the one on your Pinterest board and still say “it’s okay, it’ll grow back!”

Then there those who don’t like change, whose entire equilibrium is thrown off and they tumble through an internal, and sometimes an external downward spiral and find it hard to settle themselves into a new reality.

I can say that I’ve sat in both seats.

A year ago today (March 23, 2025), I was at my church home in ATL, 2819. I was a nanny for a dear friend of mine, but on the verge of some life changes. It was everywhere around me and within me. I knew I’d soon be taking on a huge venture of going into full-time artistry.

I also felt there were things about me that were needing a change, like my health regime and things like that. How I viewed myself was definitely on high God’s priority list. So much in fact, that a very powerful woman of God from my church was led to tell me some things about what I carried in my hair.

She didn’t know that it had been on my heart for quite some time to cut it. Her message was all the confirmation I required. Three days later, my locs sat on my friend’s grey couch next to me and a pair of her shears.

A year goes by, and I’m no longer a nanny. I’m not going to the same church as I was before, at least not in person. I’m no longer making a life in Georgia as a full-time artist. I’m far away from most of my spiritual community. Materialistically, I don’t have much. Spiritual warfare is everywhere. And with all of this, I’m five days away from turning 36.

This is the WILDEST my life has ever been, y’all.

But one thing I have to admit, which still seems odd, I’m not as worried or concerned as most think I should be. It’s like that famous line by whoever said it first:

I know that I have ideas for a plan. I know I gave that plan to God. I know, along with prayer and staying in the Word, I’ve asked that He help me execute it. I know there are things that need to be done practically that I’m just hoping isn’t making Him face palm.

I also know He very well may be saying:

So we’ll just have to see how that goes. But again, in a very strange way the lack of knowing what’s going to happen doesn’t frighten me. If this were to happen a year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to even type these words.

It’s very interesting how things change with time, even our own selves. In a sense, I’m holding on to the hem of His garment and I feel secure with that one thread.

There are so many things about life that can, and will, change. The most beautiful gift we can have in the midst of that change, is a Father that orchestrates every part of the plan, and is still sweet, gracious and loving to comfort us through it.

You don’t know how much you really want control over your life until you’re in a place where you have none. It sometimes feels unbearable, doesn’t it? I’ve had the hardest time letting go of it, and I can’t say I’m still not having issues.

What I can say, is that there’s more freedom in letting go than trying to keep it. My life is nowhere near what I wanted it to look like when I was 30, or 33, or even 35. But I do know that whether it takes a week, a month or even a year, my life is going to change into something beyond any expectation I’ve ever had for myself. I believe that. I have faith in that.

So my prayers for 36 are:

• that my childlike faith grows

• that my wonder for creation grows

• that intimacy with my Father grows

• that I run to the joy of the Lord always

• that I keep this peace that makes no sense

• that I learn to love others the way He loves me

• that I learn to love me the way He wants me to

• that being His daughter is the only thing I make top priority

As He always does so well, God is making all things new again. That’s not an easy process. But for more of Him? It’s worth it.

If you’re going through a change or transition you weren’t quite ready for, my heart is with you. I can promise you that no matter where you are in the process, it won’t always be like that. God knows what He’s doing, and everything He does is with you in mind.

In the meantime, my prayer for you is that you’re able to accept the peace He wants you to walk in and that your trust in Him grows a little more with each step you take. Trust me, the path you’re on is way better than the one you think you had for yourself.

Why?

Because He’s the Creator of the universe, and the Creator of the universe loves you even greater.

Peace and Love ❤️

I really want you
Unhinged
Shackles shifting, shaking
As I shiver in this shell of 
Shame I didn't want this sooner
I promise you I really do
I really do want you 

To take hold of my confinement
Tight gripped
Bars in fist
Trembling with nails piercing into palms
Regenerating any ounce of power
To turn fear into fight 
You can do it
Please

Pull!

Pull it away

The mask
Edges caving and engraving
Into my identity
Replacing who I don't know that I am

Pull!

You are stronger than these restraints
Aren't you?

Heart is desperate
Lungs deflating
The oxygen is just outside
Of the lies that bind me 
Please breathe truth into me
Sticks and stones break bones
But I won’t let the words of devils define me 
Haunted by darkness 
Like I wasn’t created by the Light 

You are the key
Unlock the door of your heart
To see the blood on calvary 
Knocking 
Search for the courage 
To see redemption birthing 
The new me 
I want to embrace her 
For who she is

Please
Don't let me die as someone else
I really want to be me

I want
FREEDOM!

Thank you for reading/listening to this poem. Full spoken-word performance video coming soon 😊

My direction was given by God through prayer, fasting and feeding my spirit with God’s word, and sometimes just winging it. It was as though He took everything that would be in my way of following Him, of trying to produce productivity, success, and so many other things on my own. Things that were taking my focus off of Him, that I made an idol of, were slipping away.

When He told me to leave my life in Atlanta and go back home to Pittsburgh, I wasn’t thrilled at first and didn’t believe it. I told myself that it would be a very last resort if nothing worked out in Georgia. However, during some time at GraceFull Encounters Cottage in Eatonton, GA., God let me know that the next step was to go back home.

That time, my hesitation and reluctance disappeared simply because I was confident that I was doing the will of God. It wasn’t about me, and I learned that this new season was Him moving me into preparation for what’s next, as well as to show me that I’m not the provider of my life. He is. In EVERY sense of the word.

But then reality hit. The truth that I was truly leaving/shifting from a life I loved. Not saying it was perfect, because it wasn’t by any means. But weeks go by in 2026 and I realize that I’m grieving:

• my friends and community back in GA

• getting around on my own

• the luxury to be around people when I wanted to, and to have my own space when I wanted to

• opportunities to ride around with my people

• go to worship and game nights, etc.

• even the crazy Georgia weather (I didn’t miss this snow, y’all!)

• Going to church gatherings every Sunday where felt well fed in scripture

• my art studio

• having a safe space for my people to come and commune with me

• the school I’m no longer able to attend because I don’t live in the area

On top of dwelling on what I don’t have, there are still things I have to do here. After graduating from MIT with a prophetic charge, God immediately put me on assignment. I’m noticing so much that hurts and burdens my heart, ways I need to be steadfast in prayer, giving of myself even more and carrying a burden I wasn’t mean to carry in this way. The weight is so heavy and I started to feel more alone that I ever have before.

Finally it got to the point where I truly felt like an out-of-control child that couldn’t take it anymore. I got angry. Then I got sad, and told myself that I just have to be honest and accept that this is a season of grieving. I questioned for days what I’m supposed to do, if I’m doing the right things by everyone around me, if I was hearing God correctly.

That peace and joy I felt was disappearing rapidly, and the last straw was when my mom went into the hospital and then my phone was shut off by AT&T in the middle of me reaching out for help and prayer from my people. I was physically, spiritually and emotionally drained.

I completely lashed out. Alone in the car, face full of tears telling God that I really just didn’t want to talk.

“Your will be done, okay I get it. Please just leave me alone be for a while!” I cried. I wanted everything to be silenced: my thoughts, His voice, the music playing in the background. I had this awful thinking that He was having His way so it didn’t matter what I thought or felt about it. I just wanted to get my cry out, and for the day to be over so we could start again tomorrow.

Before I go any further, yes I repented, y’all. I repented like a little baby, literally begging Jesus for forgiveness. I was being a BRATTTTT!

Because it was the first time I truly felt completely out of control in every single part of my life. On top of having only a few hours of sleep and being very, very tired.

The next day the Lord led me to text a friend who I had weekly bible studies with, asking him what day he was available since we hadn’t met virtually the last two weeks. I thought it was just me knowing in my spirit that I needed bible study. As God would have it, we didn’t study.

Instead my friend spoke both encouragement and conviction into me about how I was seeing this “grieving” process; how instead of sinking in the “acceptance” of the grief, that I should really be seeking after the joy of the Lord.

“Naw the Lord told me, you need to talk to her TODAY.” He said.

“For He will give His angels orders concerning you….” Psalms 91:11

It took me a while, but before I knew it the Holy Spirit took hold of my heart, revealing through my friend how much I was actually right on track with where I needed to be. That this is not where I should stay. As he spoke, so did God.

He reminded me that it’s not a bad thing for Him to be in control. I don’t belong to me. As His daughter, this is exactly what He wants. Dependency. Not dictation. Love. Not force. SURRENDER. He took everything away from me because I spent so much time with my eyes on what I wanted.

Yet, I prayed for Him to change my heart to what HE wants.

He’s not doing anything I didn’t ask Him to do. BOOM! What?!

“I’m clearing your schedule because I want time with you. You ask for me to change your heart’s desires. You keep trying to handle this on your own but all I’m asking you to do is be with Me. You keep treating this like its your final destination, and you have no idea what I want to do with you. For you. Through you. But you keep dwelling on what you don’t have. Yet you have unlimited time with me and you’re not taking it.”

My heart breaks. The worst pain in the world is when I do something I know hurts God. That’s also another prayer I’ve prayed.

Break my heart for what breaks yours.

Even if it’s me.

Today, my friend put the nail in the coffin for me. He texted me this morning with the following scripture:

'1The Lord said to Samuel, “How long are you going to mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and go. I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem because I have selected for myself a king from his sons.” '

1 Samuel 16:1

This he said:

Why am I telling you this?

Because for one, I’m learning that I don’t wish to hide or lock away anything that God is teaching and showing me, especially if it will help edify the body of Christ. Two, because this is a space where I believe I’m able to confess and show that I am a sinner saved by grace like everyone else. In this season I am weak. I am broken. I’ve been hurting. But I will boast in the Lord and rejoice, like Paul says because that’s what God asks of us. Today I watched a podcast where they mention the scripture about boasting in our weaknesses:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness.” Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may reside in me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

So this is me, boasting that even in my sinfulness of acting like all “woe is me” and being angry with God, He didn’t shun me. He didn’t push me away or leave me. Instead He went and got me out of a downward spiral, using my community both near and far, to both pray for me and love on me, but to also get me together with accountability. He’s teaching me what it means to see Him in all things. Not just the good and miraculous, not just the things that will make you shout. Even in the pain. In the mundane.

He’s teaching me what it means to be grateful for what I have and not wallow in what I have not, and to have faith and rejoice now for where I am as well as where I’m going. In this life we will have suffering and pain. We’re going to go through things we don’t like or want. It’s inevitable. But how we handle it, especially with God, is what will carry us to the next day in freedom or in chains, in joy or in sorrow.

I was the 99 in the moment, and He came and got me. Again. Because He’s that loving of a God. He’s that patient of a God. I acted like a whole fool, y’all. But still, in His love and kindness I was met this morning by his mercy because He is true to His character, true to His faithfulness.

So I’m posting this to expose my foolishness and confess my sin, but to really glorify a great God who is a loving Father unrelenting for His children.

If he can still love a bratty child like me and still call me His daughter, He can, will, and does do the exact same for you. We will never have this walk all put together, by any means. But I’m learning to accept any moment to surrender my will for His to be done, even if that means I have to be at my weakest. I will fight for joy, because “the joy of the Lord is my strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).

Peace and Love, family ❤️

I wanted to yank at my chest, tears colliding against my shirt from my chin. My eyes left his, shooting around his round dinner table. A bouquet of peonies were stuffed in a glass vase on the edge, table filled with crab-legs, mussels and shrimp shells, nutcrackers covered in butter grease, and what was left of the boil on a platter in the center. In the chair between where we sat rested a stuffed Winnie the Pooh bear hugging Tigger. Candles aligned the kitchen counter offering a faint citrus aroma. It showed everything about the man I loved and even more so, it showed how much he thought he knew me.

“Darius...” I said, slightly above a whisper.

“Clia? You good?” A nervous chuckle hung at the end of his words.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t?” His smile disappeared completely, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. “I mean there’s only two possible answers, unless you get creative.” He chuckled again, just like him to try and find humor in any awkward situation.

“I know. I want to give you the answer you want.”

“The answer I want? What do you mean? You don’t want to marry me?”

“I do, you know I do.”

“Then what’s going on? What’s wrong?” He asked, watching Niagara Falls run from my eyes. My body trembled as I slowly slipped my hand out of grip and took a step back.

“I’m sorry, D.” I whispered. I stared down at my feet, only hearing the subtle shuffle of him standing. I soaked my hand with my tears, sniffling as we both faced each other.

“I don’t get it, Clia. We talked about marriage, you want to get married.”

“I do.”

“And you love me.”

“I do.”

“Then why are you saying no?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer, babe.” He said. I rolled my eyes. He still had the nerve to call me that. Feeling my legs losing their stamina I stalked to his living room and sat in the corner of his grey sectional, tucking my feet under me and taking one of the throw pillows I’d bought him weeks ago. I held it close and laid my forehead on it. He came in seconds later, taking a spot on the cushion next to me.

“I’m so sorry.” I said.

“Can you just talk to me, please? Look at me.” His tone was firm but light. I took a long breath before straightening, looking in his direction but avoiding eye contact. “That’s not looking at me.” He called out, and I responded quickly. I looked right at him, and fought every urge to look away again. I saw the tears he fought to keep tucked away.

“I told you I don’t know what to say.”

“The truth would be great. Why won’t you marry me?”

“I don’t know, I’m scared.” The back of my hand swiped another bunch of tears away. He rose from the couch and walked over to the end table next to his recliner, took the tissue box from it and returned. He handed me the box as he went back to his seat.

“Of what?”

“Just stuff. There’s a lot of things. We still need to get to know each other more, you know?’

“Are you serious? Get to know each other? Two years ain’t enough to get to know you?”

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad but I mean, I’m a little thrown off guard.”

“No don’t say that, you should be mad at me. I completely ruined this, I’m so sorry.” My face fell into my hands, sobbing into the tissue.

“Look I’m really trying to understand but you have to give me something.”

“I know, I know.” I replied with a sigh, pulling the Kleenex from my face. I stared down at the tissue, letting the silence fall between us for a few seconds so I could find the words.

“I do want to get married to you.”

“You do? But?”

“I just want to make sure you’re ready.”

“What does that even mean? Didn’t I ask you?”

“Yes you did but have you really thought about it? What if you change your mind? What if we start learning more about each other and you realize you actually don’t want me anymore?”

Darius heavy sighed, propping his elbows on his knees and shaking his head. “Clia now is not the time for hypotheticals. How many times have we talked about stuff like this?”

“But I’m serious, though. You making this small isn’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to make it small, but we’ve had this conversation. You ask me these ‘what if’ questions all the time and what do I always tell you?”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

“Because there are actually things you might not know that might make you look at me differently. You say it won’t but you don’t know that.” It fell quiet again, our eyes locked and by the narrowing of his, I knew things were about to get worse.

“What don’t I know, Clia?”

“I-I-I mean its not...people can go on years and still find things to learn about their-”

“What don’t I know, Clia?” His body leaned an inch toward me, his eyes widened. “Did you cheat on me?”

“No, no I didn’t. I promise. But its stuff I did before we got together.”

“And you really think it’s something that bad that you makes you scared to say yes? Then why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I don’t know, Darius. I thought about it sometimes. I thought I could just forget about it and let it go, let the past be the past. I didn’t think it was necessary. But like I said,” I paused and looked back down at my hands, “things resurface.”

“I love you Clia but can you please stop talking in riddles? What is it?”

“I lied to you,” the words cracked as I tried to sit up, preparing for the worst. “I told you I was celibate before you asked to be together.”

His head tilted upward, gaze darting around the ceiling like he was looking for something up there. Then it returned to me. “Care to explain why?”

“Well I’d prefer not to.” I admitted. All he did was get me the side eye, lips in a thin line. I sighed. “I didn’t sleep with a bunch of people or anything. But I just didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how you’d treat me.”

“What happened?” He said an eye roll. I could tell he was close to losing tolerance. I nodded.

“There were two guys I would see from time to time.” I said with a swallow. His brows creased.

“Not dating...”

“No. Just...messing around” I just watched him take in my words. He turned away, fiddling with this fingers as he stared at the carpet. That was the part that wrecked my nerves. Unlike me, Darius was a silent processor. I wanted to know what he was thinking, how angry he was. I wanted to know if he regretted what he asked me like I thought he would.

“Why you didn’t tell me that? You know how I was before I met you, before we-”

“It’s really different, Darius. Come on, you can’t act like you don’t know that.”

“So this is a man versus woman thing?” His shoulders tensed and relaxed with his question, his hands out in front of him before clasping together again.

“Kinda.”

“But I’m not other men, I’m me. I’ve opened up to you, about a lot of stuff that no one else knows. I told you I’d never judge you, so I’m not understanding that.”

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you or are you mad about what I did?”

“Clia you slept with a couple of people. Okay. So?” He sat up straight, moving his hands around when he spoke. It always amused me, him being the only man I knew who talked with his hands. “It’s the past, I wouldn’t have been mad about it. How come you decide now is the best time to tell me?” He kept his gaze on me. I breathed out heavily, reaching into my back pocket and removing my phone. I unlocked it and went to my deleted text thread.

“One of them reached out to me two weeks ago.” I told him. That got his eyes on me, wide.

“And?”

“Nothing happened. I stopped talking to him, texting him, everything.”

“You stopped? So you were talking to him. You didn’t block him?” He asked, his tone heightened.

“No, I didn’t think about it. I just deleted the number after I told him we had to stop seeing each other. I didn’t think anything of it. He fought it and tried every now and then to reach out but he got the hint. At least I thought he did.”

“What did he text you?”

“He sent me a...picture.” I said.

His eyes almost left the sockets. My teeth together as I gathered whatever saliva was left in my mouth and gulped.

“Let me see it.” He said. More like he demanded it.

“Darius I don’t think that's-” his glare stopped me dead in my speech. I gulped again, handing him my iPhone. I watched his fingers move around the screen, and I noticed when he found the right thread as his thumb steadily scrolled. His jaw tightened and openings of his nose almost doubled in size. His bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as he tossed my phone on the couch.

“Darius-”

“Some dude has been texting you behind my back, and now he’s sending you pics of himself and you don’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to make you upset. You see I deleted it completely.”

“You still should’ve told me, Clia!” That’s when he stood, and my heart hit the floor. He started pacing back and forth, rubbing his face with his hand before tucking them both in his pockets.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Darius. I thought if I told you-”

“I’d leave, or whatever you said. Yeah I got it.”

“See I wasn’t wrong, look at you.”

“You lied to me, Clia. You should have told me this a long time ago. You wait until I’m ready to commit my life to you, put my heart on the line and make me feel like an idiot for something you kept from me.”

“I never meant for it to be like this. You’re telling me you wouldn’t have been mad?”

“No! You’re not the only one who had sex with people, Clia. But I told you all my stuff, I laid everything bare for you and you looked me in my eye and lied. You mean to tell me in two years I still didn’t make you feel safe enough to talk to me? You got another man texting you and you really believe that’s not something I need to know?” The tears he held in were no longer locked away. One fell, and he tried to swipe it away before I could see it.

“I was embarrassed, Darius! It wasn’t something I normally did. I was so ashamed, I just wanted to bury it. I wasn’t in a good place then.”

“Wow.” He stopped pacing, eyes piercing into me.

“See, look how you’re reacting!”

“Clia I was real with you. I was honest and you never gave me the decency to do the same.”

“I was scared to lose you! I was scared what you’d think of me.”

“Do you realize that’s not how a relationship works?” His hand moved from his chest toward me and back again three times. “I understand being scared Clia but no, that’s not enough. Nevermind what you did with them, the guy still wants you and you didn’t tell me. How would you feel if I kept something like that from you?”

I flinched. He was right. The thought never occurred to me. Knowing myself, I would have thought the worst and likely chewed him out. But I knew him. He’d never do that. I kept my head down, my right leg bouncing. I thought to myself how glad I was that I hadn’t worn make-up. My mouth opened, and then closed again. Another apology seemed pointless. No other words came to me.

“I’m really sorry.” I said.

“Yeah.” My head lifted in time to watch him plunge in his recliner. He licked his lips as his arms slumped over the arm rests. He stared straight ahead as he plucked the ring box out of his pocket. He didn’t look at it, only played with it against the chair, tension flexing in the veins in his neck.

“Do you want me to go?” I asked, and the question lingered in the thick air. It was uncomfortably quiet. I peeked at him through wet lashes. There was no movement. ‘He wants you to leave but he doens’t want to be mean,’ I thought.

“I don’t know.” He replied after minutes passed. Thought confirmed.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking about what you said about me not being ready. I’m not the one who’s not ready.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because if I didn’t propose you still wouldn’t have told me any of this.” His head shifted in my direction. “You really thought this was something to keep from me, for two years.” His eyes met mine, both filled with tears that overflowed. “You don’t trust me.”

My jaw dropped. “Of course I do, Darius! How could you say something like that? I trust you with my life.”

“But not your heart.” He said with a gulp. My eyes fluttered and I shook my head.

“That’s not true.” I replied, refusing to believe it. He kept his lips pressed together, his expression the same.

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

“That is not true, Darius.”

He rolled his eyes softly, like he was in a daze. “Is there anything else I need to know, Clia? What about the other guy?”

“I haven’t heard from him since I cut things off.” I said. His stare gave me chills, watching me as though bracing himself for more pain.

“Then yeah, you can go.” He replied. My chest ducked at his words and I broke eye contact. My lips rolled in between my teeth to keep my silent as I turned away. The corner of my eye snuck in one more sight of the remnants of what was supposed to be a night to remember in the best sense. I went to remove my jacket from the hook in the entry way and put it on. My body shifted toward where he remained.

“I do love you, Darius. With everything in me, I love you so much.”

“Is that enough, though?” The only things that moved were his lips. It wasn’t a full second after he spoke that I was opening his front door and leaving, storming to the elevator with my sobs echoing in the hallway.

It was Sunday morning, seven days since I was almost a fiancée. Two days after, Darius had texted me saying he needed some space. The week was a blur. I went from seeing someone almost every singe day to not so much as a “good morning” or “goodnight” text. I tried to cancel seeing my girls completely, but they wouldn’t have it. I texted the group chat at eight in the morning and told them I wouldn’t be able to go. Around 11am they arrived with different foods from the grocery store. Aniah, who was considered the mom of the group, refused to be quiet until I opened the door.

“Now you know we’re not having that,” she said, almost knocking me over with my own door, carrying enough to feed a family of ten.

“You really think all that is necessary?” I asked.

“In her defense,” Renee interrupted as she entered with Tara and Kyndal, “there are five of us and we know your butt hasn’t been grocery shopping.”

“Don’t act like you know me.” I closed the door, feeling their glares and refusing to acknowledge them. “’I’m not that hungry.”

“And you know we’re not having that either, all ‘sad puppy’ and whatnot.” Aniah said as she began un-bagging.

“Be nice. Shoot, if a man proposed to me and I had to say no, I’d be a hermit too.” Renee said.

“Both of you, hush.” Tara sighed as she came over to me, taking me by the arms and bringing me to her chest. “I’m so sorry, love. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”

“Thanks,” was all I could say to her, giving her a small smile before slipping out of her grasp. “Did y’all leave anything for anyone else?” I sat on one of the stools and rested my elbows on the counter while Tara stuck her tongue out at me. Thankfully most of what they bought was from the hot foods section at Publix.

Kyndal put on a pot of coffee and turned to me. “Still no word?” She asked. I shook my head.

“He said he needed space. That’s not a no.” Renee replied with a shrug of hope. I looked down at my phone that had been in my hand all morning.

“You’re better than me. I would have told him to put that ring where the sun don’t shine. Hypocrite.” Tara said, Aniah shooting her a glare as she started fixing plates.

“You know full well that’s a lie from the pit of hell.”

“No it’s not,” Tara said with a hand on her hip. “All that mess he did before they got together, that man thought he was Hugh Hefner.”

“Ew, terrible comparison.” Renee said as she took the pot from the Keurig and poured coffee into her mug.

“I still lied to him. I should have told him the truth.”

“There’s no sense in beating the same bush. You made a mistake and you corrected it. The ball is in his court now. You haven’t tried to reach out or anything?” Aniah said.

“I just send him a voice memo.”

“Girl, the man said space.” Tara whipped around from fixing a mimosa, then turned back around flipping her lace front with confidence.

Kyndal came and sat on the stool next to me, a hand holding her mug handle and the other on my back. “I wanted to give a proper apology. I made so many excuses that day. I wanted to let him know that I understood how he felt.”

“Okay so let’s hear it.” Tara asked.

“Absolutely not, that is her business.” Aniah replied.

“Uh uh, come on. Let’s hear it.” Tara gestured to me with her fingers. Renee moved closer to hear along with Tara. I breathed heavily, pulling up my text thread with Darius and pressed play on the last message between us.

“Hey Darius. I know you said to give you your space and I want to respect that. But I do think I owe you this so please bear with me. I’m very sorry that I lied to you. You’re right. I should have trusted you. Really its more that I should have trusted that I know you more than I believe I do sometimes. You’ve shown me nothing but your complete self from the beginning. I think for a while I adored that, but then it started to terrify me. Like you were too good for me. You’re right, I was overthinking it like I always do. The truth is I never forgave myself for what I did with those men, so I couldn’t believe that you would. I should have trusted you more. Again baby, I’m so sorry. Even if you take back the proposal, I really just hope you can forgive me and know that I never, ever meant to hurt you. The way I love you is scary, Darius. I never thought I’d be in love, let alone have someone who wanted to stick around and marry me. But I am, I’m so in love with you that it doesn’t make sense, and I’m thankful for you every single day. So yeah, I just wanted to leave you with that. No matter what you decide, I love you with all my heart. Okay, talk soon.”

The room went quiet. I didn’t look up to see their expressions. I just felt another hand on my back making circles.

“Mm,” was all Tara said as she went to the microwave and pulled her plate out.

“I think that was nice. You were open and honest, didn’t push him. Now just give him time?” Aniah said with a brow raise and a nod.

“And pep up, because we’re not having this ‘sad Sally’ thing going on no more.” Tara said with her plate in one hand and her drink in the other. She winked at me though before heading into the living room. “It’s brunch time, let’s go.” Everyone else retrieved their plates from the counter and followed Tara, filling in the seats on my beige sectional.

An hour went by that was filled with eating, crying, and more eating. They all talked their talk, as we women do. Still they didn’t neglect to pause the movie and pray over me, which I was grateful for. We were about twenty minutes away from the ending of The Single Mom’s Club when we all jumped at hearing three knocks on my door. We looked at each other, then toward the entrance.

“Who is it?” Aniah yelled, like it was her apartment.

“Darius.”

They all looked at me with wide eyes. I couldn’t move, my gaze frozen at the door. Kyndal smacked me on the thigh and mouthed ‘go’, and I just shook my head. Tara and Aniah almost knocked each other over rushing to let him in, shushing each other. I sat upright to watch through the open space above the counter that separated us from the kitchen. Tara made it first.

“Hey D.” I heard her say, dragging out the ‘hey’ the way she always did.

“Whoa, hey.” He replied, no doubt surprised to be met by two women he didn’t expect to see. “Clia around?”

“Mmhmm, she in here.” Aniah said, crossing her arms over her chest.

I heard him chuckle and my breath caught in my throat. “It’s Sunday. Brunch day, right?”

“You know us so well.” Tara replied, moving back to let him in. Aniah didn’t move until after Tara nudged her. I stood up when he passed them on his way into the living room..

“Hey.” I said as he made it to the center of the room, clean from head to toe with his brown Oxford’s, beige slacks and light blue button up. “How was church?” I asked. I always felt like a heathen for missing the gathering once a month for brunch with the ladies.

“It was pretty good, actually.” He nodded, looking around at my girls. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and I watched him inhale then look down as he let all the air out of his lungs. Each one of them had their sight glued on him, Tara with her arms folded over her chest like Aniah, Kyndal with her hands clasped together at her chin and Renee with her hands on her hips. Then he got on one knee again. They all gasped, Renee and Kyndal standing to their feet. My eyes fluttered and I didn’t realize I wasn’t breathing.

“Darius...” I breathed out.

“I was hurt that you lied to me. Like, a lot. I can’t say that we don’t need to talk about it still because we do. Things definitely need to change.” Our eyes locked. Everything was quiet. I couldn’t hear the movie in the background. “But I know this is the first serious relationship you’ve ever had, and how you never hesitated to tell me how much I mean to you. I know you. I know your heart. I know though you’re working on it, you try so hard to make everyone around you happy. I know you hate confrontation. I know you hate disappointing people, and you overthink almost everything all the time.”

“And do.” Aniah said with a roll of her eyes. Tara nudged her and they both exchanged looks. I rolled my eyes and put my attention back to Darius.

“I fasted and prayed every chance I could get. Something that God really got on me about is grace. He had a lot of grace with me, when I thought I didn’t even deserve to have a wife after everything I did. Using women, sleeping around, acting like I was God’s gift. I just knew there was nobody who could love me and accept me other than God. You did.”

“So…will you forgive me?”

“Yeah. I do forgive you.”

All I could do was nod, tears returning for the millionth time that week.

“You’ve loved me in ways I’ve never experienced before. I’ve learned a lot through you. You’re the reason I know God’s love is real, and I don’t want to give that up. Plus, I don’t want to hurt God by rejecting the woman He gave me to do life with. I want for better or worse. I want until death do us part. We got work to do, but I’m willing to do it if you’re willing to do it with me.”

“I am. I am willing.” I nodded frantically, going to my knees and lunging at him. My arms locked around his neck as sobs filled my living room, not all of them mine. Warmth filled my veins when he returned the embrace.

“So I guess that’s a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, D.” I said, barely able to get the words out. Shouting and screaming erupted behind us and I laughed through my cry.

“I love you, Clia.”

“I love you too, Darius.” I said as I loosened my grip just enough for my lips to meet his. I smiled against them when he kissed me back, hands gripping the sides of my torso. After a few moments I laid my forehead against his with my eyes closed, holding the man soon to be my husband.

It saddens me
How these days are a dream land
With roller coasters that don’t stop
Passions and desires are run after
But never caught
I’m cold
Compressions concaving my lungs
Only companions with shivers and coughs
on my knees begging for the sun

It’s supposed to be day
But it’s still dark
and I’m chasing the light 
from a house that’s vacant

My heart carries an elephant
Yet in crowded rooms with bright lights
I’m still unseen

I scream
Shhh, don’t make a scene
Actions speak louder than words
But when I take a step
So does everything else
until I’m left on the set 
Alone
Cut

This morning
I woke up counting the ways
I was discounted
Each moment I presented myself
at a percentage
and I still wasn’t cheap enough
To be taken, seriously

Even the mention of my name
Causes a flight risk
I aim high and I’m knocked down
I stay low and I’m forgotten

I stay silent
“Speak up”
“Okay.”
“Too loud, be quiet.”
“Okay.”
What else can I say?

Other than I want to get off
This roller coaster is making me sick
And I’m afraid of being judged for vomiting

So I swallow my pain
Pretend being miss-understood 
It’s my new name

Maybe I’ll just sleep it away
and dream up a better dream land
where living without light 
isn’t so bad.

The cold never bothered me, anyway.

I’m an outdoor girl, and back in the South I didn’t spend a lot of time at home. When I was home, I was still taking walks around the neighborhood even if it was just to walk my dog. For those who don’t know, Pennsylvania weather is pretty insane and inconsistent (as I’m sure most places are when you’re from there). I had to get used to snow again. Boo. It’s so pretty! But also, boo.

There’s also the fact that I no longer have a vehicle, and currently stay in a city that’s far away from everything. No money because I couldn’t find a job out of the 20+ applications I filled out. There’s nothing in walking distance but a library that’s never opened and a sandwich shop I can’t afford. Needless to say I’ve been in the house. A lot.

This made a heavy start to the year, in addition to other life burdens I’ve been carrying. You can say I started to sink into a bit of depression. While being able to spend time with my family again was a HUGE blessing that I’m grateful for, two things can be true at the same time. I missed my life back in GA. I missed the access I had. I missed the communities I was a part of. I missed being able to just GO. I felt so stuck I couldn’t but the emotions into words.

So needless to say I didn’t think I’d be going anywhere anytime soon.

Then a warm front began. When I tell y’all I was OUTSIDE! You couldn’t tell me nothin’!

There’s an empty lot across from my mother’s house, full of grass with ditches and dents in the ground. I’ve been going over there to talk to God. It’s been beautiful.

This particular early afternoon I was heavy with emotion, very close to a breaking point. At the same time a dear friend of mine was working on a custom poem for me. We have this writing challenge in our poetry cohort, where each person would pick someone to write a poem about what they’d been through within the last 24 hours. I knew when I picked her I was going to be a nervous wreck.

I was a nervous wreck, y’all.

Hearing her words, her tone, on top of everything I was feeling at that time broke me into pieces. I sobbed in that lot, listening to her audio recording (which I will be sharing because she is a poetry beast and how could I not?) and all the things I needed to release was flooded out of me.

After all the tears were wiped away, I went inside to prepare for a library trip. My mother told me she wasn’t going to come along because she wasn’t feeling well. Though disappointed I knew it was something I had to do anyway, and I wasn’t shy of doing things alone. So I got myself together, packed a lunch and put it in my parents’ car.

I went back to the field to thank God for the release He allowed me to feel. I thanked Him for allowing me the freedom to embrace the moment of sadness, and the joy that followed when I looked up at the sky and saw nothing but bright blue.

I looked at the barren trees that would be bearing fruit soon. Hope filled me. With that I gave him a smile, prayed and went to the car.

It was a 25-minute drive to the library, since the one closest to us was closed on Mondays. Since I’m still new to the area I was excited to explore some. Uniontown. It felt like one of those towns you see in Hallmark movies, small, with mostly older buildings and businesses that looked like old homes. As most libraries are, it was quiet, clean, and filled with the scent of pages.

I said it before, but again, I was excited!

I came through the back entrance and looked around. Right by the door was a shelf full of free books. I scanned through them, not seeing anything of interest until I saw Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson.

I saw the film but never read the story and told myself I would one day. The venture to the library was an idea I was given because, as a writer it’s important to still read.

I haven’t read a book outside of school studying and the Bible in months, even years if we’re talking fiction. So it added to my enjoyment that I was going to get into some other leisurely reading. For the purpose of the novel and stories I’m working on, I thought it important to look into the formatting and style of other writers. When I saw Speak, I knew God was speaking to me. So I grabbed it and put it in my bag.

Then I asked God to show me others He wanted me to check out in the section where everything was a dollar or less. After scanning a few shelves and looking up a few authors, I found four more books I was interested in and went to purchase them.

I only had $6 to my name, but I thought getting those books was worth spending my last. I considered it to be investing in myself. When the librarian rung me up I asked if they accepted cards. They didn’t.

“Shh, don’t worry about it.” He said with a whisper and a light wave. “We have extra cash from people who wanted to donate for situations like this.” I gave him my gratitude, hugging the books to my chest as I left. There were three benches maybe twenty feet from the front entrance. I went to them and sat, looking up at the sky.

“That was so nice. Thank you, God!” I said, spreading the books out on the bench and pulling my lunch from my bag. There I sat, eating my salad with the sun beating on my face. I closed my eyes and just breathed. In my mind I kept expressing my thanks and my joy. After eating and internally praying I read the first chapter of Speak.

Of course my brain started comparing it to the film. Already there was no comparison. But I did get the nudge that reading this story was about more than just refreshing my knowledge on novels. As a person who’s had a challenge with using her voice all of her life and now charged with writing whatever the Holy Spirit leads me to say, I knew to take heed that this was bigger than me.

After a while I grew a little tired, putting the books in my bag after I finished the chapter and headed out. Where I parked, there was a creek that came around a bend from the left and flowed under a small bridge. I sat on the wall that stretched maybe thirty feet above it. I crossed my ankles and watched the flow of the water below my feet. The sun sparkled like diamonds, almost too hard for me to see but I refused to look away. The birds sand their usual song using the sounds of the waters as their instrumental background.

I dug my fingers into the dirt around me, gravel and rocks pushing to the surface. Looking a little further from where I sat, He showed me the cutest little pine cone. I’ve never seen one so small!

“It’s so cute! Thank you!” I said to God as I examined it in my palm. I cradled it close as I just inhaled and exhaled, a breeze cooling my arms while the sun played hide-and-seek through the trees across from me. I took a picture of it. When the sun shines on me, I always see it as a way of Jesus saying:

“Hi. I see you.”

I left at 4pm, getting back into the car and heading home listening to Sondae. My books were tossed in the front seat with my hoodie and water bottle.

That set the tone for my week. God gave me the time that I needed. I think back on that day, and the days before that how I’ve been so weary, thinking that I was in a place where hope was fading with each passing minute. I’ve been dealing with feelings of boredom, loneliness, complacency, and fear that I was just wasting away. But He showed me in just that one day, that everything is purposeful. He didn’t invalidate what I was going through, that’s not something He does. He showed me what I could have when I just release what I feel to Him and let Him have control.

It was my first date of the year, and so far the best day that I’ve had in 2026.

Peace and Love ❤️

A part of me felt the joy I had remained seated next to guilt. The peace didn’t make sense. Yet for the first time in thirty-five years I was on an unfamiliar road with no plan, both physically and figuratively, and I was not afraid. After all, most people who didn’t have a home, job, car or a penny to their name would be riddled in timidity, wouldn’t they? Yet I was on my way to a place I prayed to experience one day, and finally nothing was in my way.

Before the trip, I spent my days striving for success in the creative world. Every morning at 5AM I woke up to pray. I went to my prayer closet, a large walk-in space that was connected to the second bedroom acting as my art studio. I’d sit on the comforter I had spread out across the floor with my bible and highlighters in hand, turn on my favorite worship playlist and start worshipping. Most mornings my prayers were covered in tears of gratitude, burden and hope. Some were cries of war. Some were quiet, with me laying on my back and staring up at the ceiling imagining heaven. Sprinkled into my prayers was the same request.

“Help me to see myself the way you see me. Help me to love myself the way that you love me. Most of all, show me how to see You the way You want me to.”

I had other prayers too. I prayed for whoever God put on my heart that morning. I reminded him of the things I needed, like steady income or a breakthrough for my art business to take off. I prayed for a miracle of transportation since my car had been repossessed months before, so it made finding work even more challenging. Each month making rent and paying utilities became a bigger obstacle. I was a self-employed artist, with a goal to use every gift He’d given me to make ends meet because I believed that’s what He called me to do.

Lastly, I prayed that He’d help me to forgive those who hurt me and help others forgive me for causing them hurt, including myself. Then after some time reading the Bible and sharing anything else I wanted to tell God, I’d leave my prayer room and go on about my day.

That was the routine up until the last week or so of being in my home. The eviction was filed. I asked for help through every channel available, including a GoFundMe page I created. I called out to churches, government assistance lines, even shelters until it became clear that I couldn’t stay there. Within a week, I sold or gave away most of my furniture, packed up what was left and put it into a storage unit that a friend so graciously offered to get for me.

That’s where the trip came in. Once I was certain that I had to vacate the house, it was brought to my mind the conversation I had with a friend, Faith. She told me about a woman who had a beautiful cottage about two hours away from our small city. She had me at “cottage.” At the time we talked, I was looking for a venue to host a woman’s retreat and after some communication with the owner we figured it wasn’t the right fit for the event. As I’ve come to learn a long time ago, God doesn’t do anything without a purpose.

While preparing for eviction I connected with the woman who owned the cottage, asking if she had any availability for bookings. Ms. Diane was her name. She carried the sweetness of pure honey in her. Though we only spoke through text, I could feel her joyous spirit through each message. It just so happened that the cottage was open the very day I was due to leave my apartment. How about that? Through settling some preliminaries, I was able to book eight days on the property. As a woman who’s a nature girl at heart, it was the best thing I had to look forward to.

And it wasn’t an ordinary cottage. Ms. Diane and her husband owned almost two hundred acres of land. Their home, as well as the booking property, were on it. It wasn’t used just for anyone who wanted to get away. The purpose of the space was for people to get away…with Jesus. It was for spending alone time with him. No distractions. No work. Just the opportunity to be on holy ground. After everything I’d been praying about, it became clear the intentionality. Talk about divine alignment.

Pulling in, I was driven down a short path under a canopy of trees. We were led into an open space with three different properties in front of us. One rested on the left, white, slightly larger than the other structures with a long swing and shed next to it. A brown building lined with screened windows sat directly in the middle, and to the left of the round-a-bout road was the cottage.

“Pull over here.” I said to Alyssa, pointing to a spot of concrete in front of a stone path that led to the porch. I got out of the car, heart jumping out of my chest like I was visiting an amusement park for the first time. A grin spread across my face as I took in the sight of the house quickly. Funny how I had no idea what it would look like before arriving, yet it was everything I imagined it would be. Alyssa and I began taking my things out of the vehicle and carrying them inside.

Two black and white striped chairs sat on either side of a white and gray table. A black porch swing nestled perfectly on the left of the porch facing it, and two burgundy rocking chairs took up the right side with pillows on the seats. They were patterned with yellow, black and white floral print. Everything was enclosed by a wooden fence about two feet tall that only left the center open for entry. A green bird feeder hung from the wood above the fence on the left. Broken wood panels were put together for a painting of white daffodils with a blue background and hung to the right of the front door. Truly picturesque.

The best part was the blessing. On the other side of the door was a chalkboard. I thought to myself how I hadn’t seen one in years, and it added a certain charm to the house that made me feel warm. On it was a message:

‘Welcome, Amy! We are so blessed to have you on property this week. We pray that your time with Jesus be filled in abundance. May you find rest here. Peace and blessings to you!’

“That is so nice!” I said to my neighbor before opening the door and putting my bags by the wall.

“Uh huh, it’s real nice. Got your name on it everything. Wow, it’s pretty in here,” she replied. I started to look around but decided to wait, making sure she was squared away before she left. Alyssa was kind enough to make the almost two-hour drive before going to work, and I wanted to be conscious of her time.

“Thank you so, so much again for this. For everything, it really means a lot.”

“Of course, no problem. I hope you have a good time and really get some rest. Let me know if you need me to give you a ride back.”

“I will.” I said with a smile, reaching my arms around her and pulling her close. My eviction hadn’t sat well with her, since she and I had gotten close over the past few months. As I held her, I prayed that it wouldn’t be the end of our friendship and connection. When I let go, we both exchanged soft smiles before she got into her truck. I watched her drive away before going back inside.

“God, this is so amazing.” I said aloud, looking around. It was an open floor plan upon entry, a small couch sitting behind a wooden rectangle coffee table, and end table between it and the wall. To the left was a flat-screen TV above an entry-way table. I went further inside with painful cheeks, as I couldn’t put my smile away. A dining room table was at the far end of the room with the cutest table-piece, a pale spilled over with flowers and a sign that read “Home.” I knew they weren’t real, but I touched them anyway, lightly rubbing the material between my fingers.

“Look at this! This is so precious.” I said to God, still making my way around. I entered the kitchen. Two documents were left on the countertop, one with all the information Ms. Diane said I’d need as far as the cottage was concerned with the Wi-Fi and other important details. The other was a contract I had to sign with the “rules” of the property, which mostly consisted of acknowledgements, a rundown of what I had access to, and a simple pray for my stay. The cabinets and drawers were filled with everything I could think to need.

“God I feel a little spoiled,” I admitted, admiring the faux plants against the walls and the farm-style décor. The laundry room had the most adorable decoration on the counter of a glass of tea spilled over with cubes of ice. It may not make sense but, to me it felt as though God was saying this place was for me, exactly what I needed. Things that were just random and silly were still things He knew I’d appreciate. Again, knowing it was plastic I still had to touch it.

The cottage had two bedrooms, with just enough space for a bed, dresser and nightstand. Ms. Diane had a tray of books left for any guests to take at their leisure, and little chocolates on the bed as a welcome treat. In the closet were a few robes. I reached in, taking the arm of one and brushing it against my arm.

“Oh I’m so going to wear this.” I said as I closed the closet door, turning to observe my current shelter one more time. I squealed, shaking my arms at my sides and laughed.

“I can’t believe this, God. I can’t believe I’m here in such a beautiful place. I don’t know how I’m ever going to leave. Thank you.” I looked to the ceiling offering those words. Then I closed my eyes and inhaled, exhaling deeply. Carrying that moment of stillness and gratitude, I went about unpacking my things and tucking them in the prospective drawers before putting my art supplies in the hall.

Daylight had arrived, shining through the windows. I texted Ms. Diane to let her know I was on property and looked forward to meeting her. She had bible study that morning and informed me that she wanted to give me a tour of the land after. With that news, I decided it was time for rest. To aid my sleep, I grabbed my phone and found my favorite sleep sounds video with crackling fireplace sounds and rain. I snuggled myself into the full-sized bed, tucking myself under the white comforter and closed my eyes.

The rest of the day was kind. I met with Ms. Diane who was even sweeter in person, and her pup Serendipity. Standing around five feet tall, she seemed to have more joy for life than I did. She always wore a wide smile, full head of grey hair bundled in a bun on the top of her head. Black frames perfectly shaped her face and her attire was that of a true country woman, feet booted wearing a pair of jean and comfortable outdoor shirt. She was simply fun to be around. We walked around the land, her giving me the backstory of how it came to be a place of peace and spiritual awakening. From the prayer circle made of stone to the set of swings hanging from a beautiful oak tree, I knew I was going to spend a lot of time outside. We didn’t even cover half of what she owned. Then, she showed me the garden.

“I spend almost every morning here after my walk with Serendipity,” she said as she opened the gate to let me in.

“That’s beautiful, I love that.” I told her. I followed her steps, maneuvering around each plot of greenery. I’d seen gardens before, but there was something about that one, something that pulled me to it. She showed me the flower beds, filled with gardenias and marigolds. A metal bench sat in the corner with a sign that said “rest here”, shaded by branches from a tree growing right outside the fence. I smiled at the flat metal statue of a farmer next to it.

“Sometimes you just want to sit and take it all in,” Ms. Diane said as we headed to the bean patch.

“You grew all this yourself?”

“I sure did. My husband helps every now and then, but this is where I come to just spend my time with the Lord and do my part.” She looked back at me with a grin before facing forward. A long-wired arch rested in the meeting point of the garden, lined with vines of string beans. On the side of it was a path between the beans and the containers filled with herbs. Basil, lemon, mint, rosemary, ginger and sage. In the other corner of the garden were pots growing strawberries and blueberries. In another patch were sweet potatoes.

“You’re more than welcome to pick whatever you’d like anytime. We always offer these to guests who stay at the cottage. My husband and I usually do the same, though it’s like pulling teeth getting him to eat his vegetables.” She joked. “Do you like sweet potatoes?”

“Yes ma’am, I do.” I said.

“Oh well here, let me grab one up for ya.” She dug into the large brown pot, scraping away at the dirt as she pulled out the largest sweet potato I’d ever seen.

“Oh, this is a big one!” She said, grabbing the hose that curled over the fence and gave it a good rinse.

“There you are, that looks good.” She placed the large vegetable in my hands.

“Wow. This may seem strange but, I’ve never actually picked vegetables out of a garden before.”

“Oh, no? Well that makes me even more happy that you’re here. We absolutely love it.” She took me to another section, filled with arugula, squash, zucchini, and bell and banana peppers. I shook my head in disbelief, my left hand raised and pressed against my chest. I examined the sweet potato in my other hand.

‘God, what are you doing? You’re doing something. What is it you’re trying to show me?’ I prayed silently, blinking to snap myself back into focus. After adventuring the grounds a bit more, Ms. Diane and I said our goodbyes and separated. The rest of my evening was filled with reading and a feel-good movie night.

I put myself back into my old routine the next morning, getting up at 5AM to pray and read. I pulled myself out of bed, following my usual bathroom regimen, wrapped myself in a throw blanket and went to the dining room table. My bible and highlighters were there waiting. After taking a deep breath, I started to pray. As I prayed, a rush of heaviness fell over me. I didn’t understand it. I was at peace, so I thought. I had a wonderful first night at the cottage. I was looking forward to exploring more of the land later that day.

Then it hit me. God wanted to show me why He brought me there.

“What is it, God? What is it that you want? Anything you want me to do I’ll do, you know that.” I said out loud, moving out of the chair to my knees as my cheeks flooded with tears.

“I want you. My daughter.” I heard vividly. Again, I didn’t understand.

“What do you mean? I’m here, I’m right here.”

“You asked me to help you see yourself the way I see you.”

“I did. By why does this hurt? Make it stop, please?” I asked through my sobs.

“Because you have to let go of the woman you pretend to be.” He replied.

I gripped my chest as if I could hold my own heart in my hands, buckled over with my face to the floor. I remember being thankful that my cries couldn’t be heard across the way by Ms. Diane and her husband. I gasped for air as the truth seeped into my heart.

I didn’t love myself. I wanted to, more than anything in the world. But in truth, I thought my life to be as boring as old history documentaries on National Geographic. Even more than that, I didn’t think God loved me either. I saw God as Lord, the creator of all things. He was the one we should fear and always be obedient to, or else we had his wrath to face. I pondered that for a while, pleading in my weeping that all I ever wanted to do was please Him. Then He hit me with another truth.

“You don’t see me as a Father,” He said. Weeping turned to wailing in that dimly lit open space as I held myself, arms firm around each other.

“Yes I do.”

“No, you don’t. You see me a dictator. I don’t want to control you. I love you.”

“Then why, God? Why is all of this happening to me? Why am I like this?” I screamed to the air.

“I can show you, if you’ll let me. If you’re willing…” He said, voice softer than a misty rain. I shook my head, not wanting to believe what He said about me to be true. But I knew better.

“Then show me, God. Help me to see you that way. Show me how you see me and show me how I should see you. I am willing. Please show me.” I pleaded, releasing my arms from my body and holding them up high. I didn’t get an answer, but believed He heard me. After a few more tears were shed, I pushed myself from my knees and back into the chair. I was led to read Psalm 139 again, repeatedly until I grew tired. I exhaled a heavy breath and closed the book, dusting the cover with my fingertips before leaving the table.

The sun peaked through the sides of the closed curtains. I went to each one in every room, sliding them open with a soft smile. In each window I stood a few seconds, hugging the light to my skin before going to the next. When I got to the front door, my eyes glazed across the scene. Ms. Diane was out with Serendipity and the family of cats that lived there. I watched her feed them before she disappeared inside of her home.

“Let’s go to the garden,” I heard in that still, small voice. The ends of my mouth curled up, and with a nod I left the window and headed to the bedroom. Minutes later I was on the porch with a bowl in hand.

The night before, I put my shoes out on the shoe tray on the porch thinking it was the polite thing to do in respect of the cottage. What I did not expect was a luna moth caterpillar curved in the heel.

“Well hello there. Good morning.” I said, picking up my hiking shoe slowly to get a closer look. I chuckled, shaking my head.

“Well there’s something you don’t see every day.” I said to myself, staring at the insect and ignoring the desire to pick it up. Though I loved nature, bugs were never a part of the equation. Still, my curiosity was peaked.

“What are you doing, God?” I asked. He didn’t respond. Once again, something settled in the back of my mind that there was no mistake in the little thing finding it’s home in my footwear. I made a mental note to research caterpillars that evening when I returned. I put the shoe back where it was, having no heart to remove it, and slipped my sneakers on.

As I took the gravel path around the bend, I felt it. A peace that I didn’t understand. It occurred to me that what I was doing felt natural, not like it was a first-time experience. The sun welcomed me with its presence, peaking through the branches and leaves as if it were playing hide and seek with me.

“Good morning, God.” I said, though it wasn’t the first time God and I spoke, but it was a habit. Every time the sun or moon shone on me, I thought of it as the Lord greeting me.

My head swayed back and forth while I hummed, my thumb tapping the ceramic bowl I held against my stomach. In minutes I was at the garden gate. I unhooked the latch and swung it open, listening to the creek of the metal. The birds were playing, their song sweeping through the sky. The air smelled of dirt, with a hint of a sweet aroma I couldn’t place. I caught sight of the green beans first, my second favorite vegetable.

“Okay Abba, let’s do this.” I said as I went right for them. I continued to hum the tune of a worship song I fell in love with just days before, fiddling through the bean vines. I plucked the first one, putting it in the middle of my hand. I chuckled, my head moving from right to left a few times before placing the bean into the bowl. How about that? I was picking vegetables! Then I picked another, and another, until the dish was three-thirds full. Then I moved to another part of the garden, a slight bubbly lift in each footstep. I hadn’t picked anything else, for fear that they weren’t ready for picking. I didn’t have a ton of knowledge of the growth of fruits and vegetables, and Ms. Diane said previously that some were going to take another day or two to ripen. So I walked around instead.

I found myself at the metal bench and grinned, sitting down and setting the beans next to me. My feet pushed against the wooden platform beneath the bench, putting me in a swinging motion as I took in the sight of the whole garden. I grabbed my phone to play my favorite worship album, filled with songs pulled from the book of Psalms. Each word and melody danced in the light of everything I saw before me. The cumulus clouds floated overhead, and a sweet breeze cradled my cheeks.

In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something falling from above. When I looked down, I couldn’t help but giggle when normally I would have screamed. A tiny, white, fuzzy caterpillar wriggled its way around the arm of my hoodie.

“Well hello to you too!” I said through my laughter, my heart rate slightly elevated. That’s when I knew the peace of God was over me, or else I would have screamed and ran.

Instead I lifted my arm closer, watching the critter until it was at the edge of my hand. I began to play with it, putting my other hand underneath to let it catch onto me.. Back and forth I moved my arms for the caterpillar to crawl around. I folded my legs and tucked them under my butt, being silly with my new found friend. I felt like a child again. I was full of joy. Contentment. Freedom.

Then I thought of Eden, the first home God ever made for us. My eyesight panned the vision I was given, from one direction to the other like Eden was right in front of my eyes. Trees of every kind were fully grown in the far distance. Rose bushes, tulips, dandelions, hibiscus, and lavender covered the horizon, including others I couldn’t name. Ripe fruits and vegetables grew limitless. Streams of water flowed on either side, a steep waterfall cascading from the mountain of earth just north. I inhaled the scent of the streams. Everything was highlighted under the rays of heat from above. There was a glow surrounding an indescribable image that moved through the meadows.

“God. Abba. This is it, isn’t it?” I asked, the lids to my eyes closing as I felt them sting. Only that time the sting of my tears arriving was the only thing that hurt. I was full of the opposite. My teeth presented brighter than the sun when I opened my mouth toward Heaven. One palm pressed against my chest with the other on top of it. I couldn’t stop looking up.

“Oh God. It’s you.” I said.

“It’s me. I’m here with you.” He said.

“This is what you wanted me to see. This is who I am.”

“It is. You are my daughter. You are the one who loves to play, full of wonder in your eyes. You are the one who loves the sun, and the moon. I made you to see things differently. I placed the heart of Eden in you. This is why you feel at home whenever you are in My presence. This is why you feel whole doing the very thing I’ve wanted for my children all along.”

His words surround me with overwhelm, speechless with the critter still using me as a playground. Stream dripped from my chin onto the cotton with sobbing mixed with the birdsong. I sniffed repeatedly trying to find my words.

“This is who I am. I’m so happy, Abba. Thank you. Thank you so much.” I replied, calling out his name in a loud wail, more overwhelmed by the peace of His revelation. The hope I had, the faith I held onto despite everything I’d been through, was for that moment in time.

“This is where I’m meant to be, God. I know that now. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before. Please, help me. Help me to always remember this moment. I don’t want to leave. Let me stay here, Father. Please.” I begged, looking up at the sky.

“You have to do something first.” He said.

“What is it? I’ll do anything.”

“Let go of the shame.” He said. I gulped. Everything around me stilled. I couldn’t hear the birds, but only the sound of my breath and my heart.

“Let go of the shame…” I repeated.

The addiction came to mind that I carried since I was in my early twenties, acting under false identities on different online platforms so other people believed I was someone I wasn’t. Past relationships I settled for came to mind, giving my body without giving my heart because I was tired of being single and lonely. The younger version of me came to mind, the little girl who did anything she was asked to do so someone, anyone, would love her. The irresponsible me came to mind, the one who did everything she could to make a name and success for herself for fear of failure, wanting to be in control because I was afraid to let God in.

“I want to heal her,” God said, “but I can only do it if you’ll give her to me. Let me be the Father I know you need.”

“Okay,” I whispered with a nod. “Okay. I give it to you, Lord. I give…I give myself to you, Father. I am yours, and you are mine.”

Another hour flew by, and I finally left the garden, though reluctant to do so. Despite the tears I shed, I felt lighter than I had in months. As I headed back to the cottage, I heard Ms. Diane’s sweet voice.

“Hello there!” She spoke. I met her with a smile, catching her wave as she came toward me.

“Hi there, good morning!”

“How are you this morning?” She asked as we hugged.

“I’m feeling amazing, actually. I just had the most beautiful time in the garden.”

“Oh good, I’m so glad! That’s what it’s there for. I’d love to hear more about it.”

“Really? I’d be honored to tell you. In fact, I think He wants me to tell you.”

“Well in that case, I was just about to go to the gathering place for a while,” which was one of the many places on the property they built for private time with God.” “Why don’t you join me?”

“Ms. Diane, I’d love that so much.” I replied, letting her lead the way with my bowl of veggies and a hopeful heart.

If you’ve made it to the end of this story, I want to thank you so much for reading. This is a story very dear to my heart, one that Holy Spirit wrote Himself and it gives me great joy to share it with you. I pray this story blessed you and met you wherever you are in your life journey. If God has shared or revealed anything to you that you’re willing to share, I’d love to hear it. Feel free to comment below.

Peace and Love, beautiful ❤️

One thing that draws me closer to God, or gives me a stronger desire to speak and spend time with Him is when I’m reminded that He’s out father. When I think about the fact that:

I can tell Him any and everything

I can cry with Him

I can talk to Him without any hindrances, without any reason to be afraid of what I say or what I’m feeling

I don’t have to hide myself or the emotions that I’ve been afraid or insecure to share

…that just makes me want to spend more time talking to Him.

Comment

I’m in a place where I have no excuse or reason for us to not have dialogue.

For so long I’ve been monologuing like a villain before their final defeat at the end of the movie. I just run my mouth endlessly sometimes, revealing that narcissistic humanness in me. But I believe where I’m at in my relationship with Him, we communicate in a way that I can’t talk over Him.

I speak, He responses.

It’s a real conversation, and I desire more of those because I love the fact that He’s always around. Because He’s always around, I know I’m always loved.

Last night, I started to go to YouTube to find my usual rain sound videos to sleep to. Within seconds I heard the rainfall outside my window, right next to my bed.

All I could think was:

“Aww, Father. You’re playing it for me.” I promise, I could feel Him smile.

in one way or another, God is always making His presence known.

We can all see it, feel it, and sometimes even hear it if we listen hard enough.

It’s such a beautiful thing to be loved by God.

“But as for me, God’s presence is my good. I have made the Lord God my refuge, so I can tell about all you do.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭73‬:‭28‬ ‭CSB‬‬

Peace and Love, y’all ❤️🙏🏾

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“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Kenzie asked in a whisper threw her teeth, taking two steps back from the door.

“Yes, ask the one who pays your phone bill how I found you.” With an eye roll and a flare of her nose, Zola stepped into the three-bedroom house surveying the scene. Nineties R&B played faintly from the backyard where most of the guests were gathered. The aroma of tacos and pizza met her at the door.

“Well it’s my birthday. I can have who I want here and you aren’t invited.”

“Oh, I’m not invited? That’s really cute. Where is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play stupid with me Kenzie, where is my mother?” Zola asked. On queue, Sylvia appeared from the right side of the house, a dessert board in her hand and her eyes covered in red party shades.

“Kenz dear, who is it?” she called out, stopping hard when she caught sight of Zola. “Well, well. My lovely daughter made an appearance after all.” Sylvia’ lips pressed in a thin line as she balanced the food board in her right hand. “Nice to see you still know the address, though I don’t remember placing you on the guest list.”

“Did you really think you could keep this a secret? How dare you? I told you not to do this, Sylvia.”

“That any way to talk to your mother?”

“I don’t have one.” Zola snarled, grabbing Kenzie at the wrist. “We’re leaving, Mackenzie. Now.”

Kenzie yanked her hand back with a hard glare. “No! This is my party, I won’t just leave. You knew about this the whole time? You knew Nana wanted to throw this party for me. How could you keep it from me?”

“We had plans for your sixteenth birthday, you and me. She knew that, and I-”

“And you were being controlling!” Kenzie yelled.

“Let’s move this madness into the kitchen, shall we?” Sylvia asked, lightly nudging them both away from the front door. Zola glared her way, shrugging away from Sylvia’s touch. Maneuvering through the dining room, she entered the kitchen and turned to face the doorway. Her arms folded in front of her chest with narrowed eyes at the other two ladies.

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Zola asked.

“I don’t see the crime in giving the girl the party she asked for.”

“This has nothing to do with the party, Mackenzie.”

“Yes it does!” Kenzie yelled, stepping between Zola and Sylvia. “You always want to do things your way, you don’t care about what I want. If you did you wouldn’t have kept me from her in the first place.”

“I kept you from her because I know what’s good for you, it’s not about what you want.”

“You literally just proved my point!” Kenzie yelled, hands thrown in the air.

“That’s not what I mean, Mackenzie.”

Sylvia raised her hand above her head with a brow raise. “If I could say-”

“No, you cannot. This is all your fault. I specifically asked you to stay away from her.”

“You are so unbelievable, this is stupid. Just because you don’t have a good relationship with Nana doesn’t mean I can’t have one.” Kenzie scoffed, taking steps toward the counter. She faced the others, pushing her body upward to sit on it and grabbed a soda. “Sounds like you’re just jealous because she’s actually fun.”

“Jealousy is nowhere near the situation, and get your behind down from there,” Zola said.

“Oh let the girl live, for goodness sake.”

“Don’t tell me how to handle my daughter.”

“Huh. I’m just to be handled now? You ruin everything, I swear. The one day that’s supposed to be about me and you can’t even let me have that!”

“Mackenzie of course I want you to enjoy your birthday, but both of you went behind my back and lied to me! For hours I didn’t know where you were! Maybe scaring the crap out of the woman who raised you your entire life doesn’t concern you.”

“Maybe it does! One minute you’re trying to be my friend and then next you’re a paranoid drill sergeant. Nana lets me be myself. She’s honest with me, she doesn’t keep secrets from me, and she’s not fake.”

“Oh, you think I’m fake. I keep secrets, do I?” Zola placed both hands on her hips, eyes darting from Sylvia to Kenzie. “How so?”

“Because you act like you’re this wanna-be cool mom in front of everybody, like you’re this supermom or something. Yet every time I want to do something outside of your so-called standards of what’s ‘good for me’,” she replied making air quotes with her index and middle fingers, “you completely shut it down.”

“I do not, Kenzie.”

“And the secrets? Like why I can’t spend time with my own grandma, or why I can’t ask you a single question about my father? You always tell me not to keep anything from you, how lies break trust, blah blah blah.” Kenzie says, lazily waving her hand in the air. “You’re such a hypocrite. Just accept it, you just want to control my life so that I do everything you want me to do.”

“I’m not accepting anything because you don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I do.” Kenzie turned to Sylvia, jumping down from the counter. “I want to live with Nana.” She pointed her eyes to Zola, crossing her arms over her chest. Both of the older women exchanged looks with each other, Sylvia’s eyes widening while Zola’s watered. Her neck trembled with a hard swallow with her mouth parted open.

“You don’t mean that.” Zola whispered.

“I actually do. You kept her from me most of my life for no reason. Do you have any idea how much that hurt her? How much that hurt me?” Kenzie stepped to Sylvia’s side, putting an arm around her waist. Sylvia looked away from Zola’s eyes toward the ceiling, letting out a slow sigh as her nails lightly dug at the back of her neck. Zola didn’t take her eyes away from her mother, tears breaking free from the ducts and slipping down her cheeks. Her mouth widened, but closed again as the back of her hand pushed her tears away.

Kenzie gulped, arms loosening from Sylvia’s body as her forehead creased with the frown of her brow. Then she shook her head, clearing her throat and tightening her grip once more.

“This what you wanted from the beginning, isn’t it?” Zola asked to Sylvia, though her eyes remained away from either of the ladies in front of her.

“What are you talking about?” Kenzie asked.

“That one was for me, sweetie.” Sylvia answered, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. “Kenzie dear, why don’t you go back to your party while your mom and I finish this?” She gave the young woman a soft smile and a wink, followed by a nod when Kenzie opened her mouth to protest. With one look to Zola, Kenzie’s eyes rolled before she left them and headed back out the back door. Sylvia let out a huff with her eyes closed, her lips tucked in between her teeth. The silence sat in between them, Sylvia taking a step toward Zola but Zola taking a step further back.

“No. This isn’t what I wanted.”

“You were never a good liar.” Zola spoke, her tone low and even but still sharp.

“I tried to get you to understand that I made a mistake, Zola. I made a mistake and I want to fix it, I want to be in her life.”

“No you stalked us on Facebook and noticed how happy she was without you and that pissed you off.” Zola’s body snapped in Sylvia’s direction, with more tears falling from her chin.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh it’s not,” Zola said as she started to pace back on forth on the tiled floor. “You saw her and hated the fact that she actually turned out better than you ever imagined, so you thought you could swoop in and be ‘grandmother of the year’ so you can feel better about yourself.”

“You are the one who kept me from her. I tried for over a year to be in her life.”

“Yes because the other years didn’t matter.”

“You say that like you wanted me around. Don’t stand there and act like you didn’t love rubbing in my face that you raised her.”

“Says the woman who gave her away!”

“Keep your voice down.” Sylvia said through gritted teeth, eyes zoomed into Zola who matched her expression.

“What? You don’t want your ‘awesome Nana’ image blown? You’re fine with making me out to be the evil one like I didn’t sacrifice my entire life to take care of her because you decided-”

“I was thinking of what was best for everyone!”

“No you wanted to find a scapegoat so you can continue being ‘miss free spirit’ and you didn’t want the evidence of your betrayal.”

“I’m not doing this with you. I’m not, not on her day. This isn’t about you, it’s about Mackenzie.”

“Don’t act like you care anything about her, because if you did you wouldn’t have made her sister raise her!”

“Again I did what was right for everyone and I said keep your voice down.” Sylvia snarled, grabbing Zola at the arm. “If you were such an amazing mother she wouldn’t be trying to run from-” Sylvia stopped, her attention shifting to the creaking sound that echoed into the kitchen from the dining room. Zola also turned, her jaw falling open with a gasp as Kenzie came further into view.

“Kenzie…” Zola said softly, taking a step forward. Kenzie moved back. Sylvia stared at her, hand covering her mouth.

“You’re not my mother?” She asked Zola, eyeing the woman she thought to be her grandmother. Sylvia and Zola glanced at each other, sighing with their shoulders shrinking.

Sylvia reached for Kenzie’s hand. “Sweetheart, it’s very complicated. Now it not the-”

“No. No, you don’t get to do that. Both of you stop lying and keeping things from me, what is going on?” Kenzie snapped, puling her hand free and focusing again on Zola. “You’re my sister?”

Zola’s eyes watered, blinking to keep the tears at bay as a slow nod confirmed her answer. Sylvia’s eyes rolled as she hugged herself around the torso. Kenzie’s face also flooded with tears, blankly looking between the two.

“Mackenzie sweetie, I can explain.” Sylvia prompted.

“Explain what? You not wanting me? Is that true, you just pushed me off because you didn’t want to be a mom?”

“It really isn’t that simple, honey.”

“Is is that simple! Why would you do that, how could you?” Her pitch raised, body quivering as she stood there. Zola turned away, hands on her hips and lips rolled shut as she slowly walked back and forth.

“With the situation as it was, I thought it was the best decision for all of us.”

“For who? What situation? So what, I was just a one-night-stand mistake, is that it?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Mackenzie went over and stood in front of Zola, pausing her pacing.

“All this time, you never told me?”

“I couldn’t,” Zola said. “I should have, I should have told you the truth but frankly I didn’t know how. I knew how much it would hurt you.”

“Is that why you never wanted me to know about her?” Kenzie asked, voice cracked and low.

Zola looked to the floor, nodding and sniffling. “I didn’t think she deserved to know you.”

“And my father?” Kenzie turned to Sylvia, who took in a heavy breath and audibly exhaled.

“Your father was a mistake.” Sylvia replied.

“How?”

“That isn’t important.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” Kenzie yelled.

“Watch your tone, young lady.”

“Don’t try to be my mother now! What about my father?” Kenzie’s arms flexed at the sides with her hands in fists. When she saw that Sylvia refused to answer, her body twisted to Zola who stood behind her.

“Tell me. Please, I know you know. Who is he?”

Zola gulped, holding her hands together over her stomach. “Your father was my husband.”

“What?” Kenzie’s eyelids spread wider, mouth agape. Her head snapped to Sylvia. “Are you kidding me?”

Sylvia refused speak or give either eye contact, opening her refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water.

“Your father and I got married right after I graduated high school,” Zola said, causing Kenzie to turn back around. “We were twenty-two years old when this whole thing happened. I wanted to get a divorce while he wanted to make things work. When we found out about you, I told them both I wanted nothing to do with them.”

The young woman gripped at her chest, backing away to sit on a stool at the wrap-around counter. Her hands slid over her face, positioning her elbows on her thighs. Zola grabbed herself a tissue from a box nearby, dabbing it under her eyes.

“So he left too?” Kenzie whispered, moving her hands enough to let her voice be heard but not looking at either of them.

“Yes,” Sylvia answered. “He said he wasn’t ready to be a dad. He moved back with his family in New Jersey.”

“And you forced me on my sister?”

“I was in a terrible place,” Sylvia replied, moving to sit before Kenzie on the floor. “I had Zola when I was eighteen years old, still a baby myself. I tried to be the best mother I could, and I barely got through it.”

“Now I have to hear your sob story as an excuse?”

“It’s not an excuse. I had just gotten a divorce from my second husband, I was struggling to find steady work, and moved around a lot. I didn’t have it in me to be the mother you needed me to be. I was depressed, miserable. I wasn’t fit, Mackenzie.”

“So what did you do? Just leave me on her doorstep?”

“Please believe me when I say I am truly sorry, sweetheart. I was so unwell and it took me so long to finally get myself together.”

Mackenzie sat upright on the stool. “Wait, you did? You left me on her doorstep!”

“I…I did. It was awful, I know. Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe this. You really made me believe she just hated you for no reason!” Kenzie’s hands raked through her hair as she grumbled to herself. The room fell silent of voices a while, with most of the party guests still outside. Kenzie looked over to the woman she called her mother, who was sitting on another stool with her ankles crossed and her hands laying limp in her lap.

“Guess now I get why you sometimes tried too hard to be my friend.”

Zola looked up at her, a hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth. “I wanted you to look up to me. Guess it was harder than I thought, separating myself from who I really am to you from who I was supposed to be.”

“And you just…took me in, just like that?”

“Of course I did. But I didn’t want to just raise you as a sister. You needed a mother. Everyone needs their mother.” Her tone softened, looking in Sylvia’s direction but refusing to meet the woman’s gaze. Kenzie, too, looked at Sylvia. With the muscles flexing in her jaw she stood, stepping away from the woman sitting at her feet. She walked to Zola, looking down at her.

“I wish you would have told me.” Kenzie said.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Zola looked down at her hands, taking in and releasing a long breath. Kenzie used her palms to clear and dry her cheeks. Then, she reached her thumb to Zola’s and did the same.

“I want to go home, mom.”

Zola’s eyes fluttered, her throat thumbing from a swallow. The back of her hand swiped away another tear as she rose to her feet. Wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulder, she gave a gentle squeeze before leading her out of the kitchen and to the front door. Sylvia remained on the floor watching them go. Kenzie gave a glance back at Sylvia, eyes scaling the woman from top to bottom before turning away to leave with her mother.

I believe I can fly 
I believe I can make you cry 
Aim high so that I can crack the sky 
Ricochet from the sun 
So I can bring the heat 
Throwing flames that might actually 
Burn you free from the agony
Caused by those who came you before me 
I’m sorry 
That we don’t have a decent track record 
That others flew through clouds 
That only brought you rain 
And sent love storming away 
Like an angry heart in a romantic comedy 
See we try but 
We really don’t know you romantically 
We just glide with hope that 
You’ll accept us 
In the eyes of the one you admire 

Believe it or not
We’re really not the ones in control
We just aim for you to get the point 
Shafts shaped to sharpen the senses 
You didn’t know were alive inside 
You thought love was dull and dead in you 
Lazarus come out!
You don’t need a potion or some abracadabra 
Just pushed a little 
A jolt in the aortic root 
To plant hope in the air you breathe
I want you to know you can have what I give you 
For free
Okay so it may sting a little 
But no pain, no gain, right? 

If I am going to be the last one to fly
I want to soar for you 
Make love attach to you 
Like the barbs make the feathers 
That make the birds…
Being high in the sky makes them happy 
That’s where I want your heart to rest
If you’ll let me 
Reach for the moon
Landing amongst the stars 
Yeah, you get me 
I want you to have the cheesy, corny story 
But one that’s real too 
Not the love you seek when you close your eyes 
Or written in tales of fairies 
I need you to wake up
Know that I can make it exist for you 
I believe 
I can make you fly 

I start this letter not knowing what to say. The purpose is to share my feelings because I’m tired of keeping them locked away in the pit of my chest. Then there is something in me that wants to keep them to myself because I don’t think there will be a time you’ll understand them, let alone share them. But I want to be honest, as I find lying about what I feel to be thoroughly exhausting. Plus, I feel you deserve my honesty. Even though you haven’t exactly earned my heart, I find myself lost in the desire to give it to you anyway. In the event that this letter isn’t easily received, or it is and it ends up in your trash, at least I know I was true to you and to myself.

The thing about love is that it doesn’t always seem fair. Like the first time I knew. I won’t be cliche and say it was the first time we met, taking one look into your grey eyes and feeling all the tingly things. That would be a lie. I promised you truth. In fact, my feelings were far from love for quite some time. Though, I enjoyed our time together, each moment feeling like I had a part of life that was just right even when it wasn’t. It was like the day I travelled halfway across the country to be next to you. Do you remember? I surprised you at the celebration of your parents’ wedding anniversary. Your mom cried real tears, not the ones she pretended to have whenever she wasn’t getting her way. Your father said he knew I’d come, though your mother didn’t believe him, Their usual playful banter made me laugh and made you shake your head.

It was the time we had our first dance, and I was very impressed that you wore a suit although you said you wouldn’t. I knew I’d likely never see you in one again so an involuntary photo was taken. Unexpectedly you grabbed my hand, taking me to the dance floor with an eye roll. But then, you pulled me close and the memory of me taking your photo disappeared because I was in your arms for the first time. I didn’t even know you knew how to dance, but there we were. I don’t remember the song that played. Just the scent of your cologne and the eyes your mother gave me as she watched us. Many times did her smile bring me joy but that moment I felt exposed, like the “butterflies” were out there for the world to see. At least the world that was in the ballroom anyway.

You told me you never danced like that before, and I laughed as I admitted I didn’t believe you. When you didn’t laugh or respond my heart stung. Your arms kept my waist close and I reflected on being twenty-two years old, having never been that close to a man. Two friends and soon-to-be college graduates were having a first together. Looking back, I guess one would thing it was the beginning of an ideal love story.

Then there was the time we sat in the car until almost two in the morning, reflecting over our life stories as if we had decades to talk about. We talked about our first class together, Western Civilization, and how you never thought watching me fall asleep every five minutes could be so entertaining. Then we discussed the time we were kicked out of the library for a heated debate about whether or not the Fast and the Furious films were actually good. We almost revisited the topic until told me your parents were splitting up. I gasped, immediately covering my mouth as you looked down at your hands in your lap. I apologized and you shrugged, twisting your lips in disdain.

I felt terrible, because in my shock about a hundred questions flew out of my mouth. The flex of your veins and pulsing in your temple made it clear you didn’t want to answer a single one. You indulged me anyway, telling me that your father was unfaithful and your mother found out. You also said your mother begged you to promise not to speak to him, and despite your rage and curiosity you agreed. The photos you mentioned, I tried not to picture them and was thankful you didn’t have the evidence on hand. I apologized again. You refused to look me in the eye and I assumed you didn’t want to see my expression of sadness. Not pity, sadness.

Then you grabbed my hand. I stared at it silently, partly thinking you did it to shut me up. Your eyes led me to know better, staring through windshield as though you were waiting for something to happen. It was the first time I ever saw you nervous. I thought it odd, that you could be nervous and angry at the same time. I wanted to joke about it with you in hopes to make you laugh but I refrained. Guilt rested in me because truthfully, I was enjoying the moment and didn’t want to ruin it. I don’t think we ever sat in quiet that long before, other than the sounds of smooth R&B in the background. There was a warning light flashing in the back of my brain that I tried to ignore. You were sad. Hurt. Betrayed. Naturally in your own way you were seeking some sort of comfort and control and like any good friend, I just wanted to be there for you. As your friend. Nothing more.

The moment I knew I had feelings for you was the day you surprised me at my promotion party, almost a year after the car date. My friends, Jasmine and Leslie, went overboard in the best way feeling slightly more celebratory than I was because I was thinking of my grandmother who was being hospitalized. Everyone in my family was so glad she survived but everyone was on edge. My dad insisted that I still go, that my grandma wouldn’t approve of my missing out on enjoying the fruits of my labor. I spent many sleepless nights fighting for the job I loved, and becoming Assistant Editor was one step closer to my dream. I thought you were still away spending time with your mother, but Jasmine and Leslie knew otherwise.

When I caught a glimpse of you standing behind them, my heart jumped and the tears arrived. Your smile was a better greeting than words. The room was riddled with ooh’s and aww’s as we went to each other. When I hugged you, the embrace didn’t resemble that of two friends. I could tell neither of us wanted to let go, but the clearing of a few throats forced us apart. I pulled away, catching your eyes as you gave me your congratulations, and told me you wouldn’t be anywhere else but with me. I believed you. Throughout the night there were those stolen glances, a crazy dance in front of everyone, more laughter and a toast. You never liked giving speeches and presentations in college, yet you were the first to acknowledge my accomplishments while sharing memories of our friendship.

We had our first kiss that night on my balcony. You knew you were the first man to ever kiss me. Everyone else left, and I watched you stare up at the moon before I came out to join you. You didn’t let me say thank you before your lips pressed against mine. Slow. Sweet. Soft. I never wanted to admit out loud that it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever felt. After our lips separated I was in your arms again, and it felt like the first time we danced. I should have told you then, but I was afraid. I was sure my confession would ruin everything. Plus I knew your feelings about love and romance, how you professed to never fall in love and commit after your parents divorced. For a short moment, I thought we could be different. It was me, the one who would never hurt you. But I kept my feelings to myself, hoping I’d get the nerve again or maybe, you would.

We were different after that. Though the words were never said, they were felt. So I thought. Holding hands became normal. Kisses were something special to look forward to. Solo dates were growing into a routine. People were getting used to seeing us together. But when they asked me if we were a couple, I couldn’t give a definitive answer. When they asked if we confessed feelings for one another, my heart ached every time I said no. I convinced myself that you’d open the door for the discussion when you were ready, and that I could be patient with you and instead of scaring you with the words, I’d just show you.

Giving myself to you was an experience I still can’t put into words, and if I could there would be too many. It was the opening night of your first art exhibit, a gallery filled wall-to-wall with your work. I watched you mingle and present yourself so smoothly. To say I was proud of you was an understatement. Three of your pieces sold that night. That was the brightest I ever saw your grin. At the end of the night after everyone dispersed, you pulled me close for another of our special kisses. You asked me to stay the night with you, and I never hesitated. I stayed awake most of the night, staring at your bedroom ceiling with your arm across my stomach as you lightly snored. That was the moment I believed you were mine. I no longer needed your words to confirm it. I just knew.

Then as always, life happened. A week after your opening, you had a fight with your father who heard about your success and came to see you. There was a show at the gallery. One of your poetry buddies wanted to host an event and thought it would be a way to support your art as well as his. I tried everything I could to deescalate the situation. Security had to remove us from the gallery, and I thanked God you weren’t arrested. You wouldn’t let me go home with you, though I expressed not wanting to leave you alone. You kept pushing me away. I tried to understand how I was always the one to be by your side when you needed someone, and that time you wouldn’t let me. I gave you your space, vowing to not be a pest but be ready whenever you reached out again.

You never reached out. Days went by. I texted you. I called you. Nothing. I even reached out to a few of our mutuals who said they hadn’t seen or heard from you and I panicked. Enough was enough. I went by your apartment and banged on your door with a tear-streaked face. I almost broke the door down when the Mr. Emerson across the hall said you weren’t there. I remember being angry that someone saw you, which meant you were okay enough that I could have heard from you. So I sat there on the landing with my back against the wall to wait.

You arrived hours later. Jasmine held your arm against her body, her lips all over your face as you both were climbing up the stairs. When she and I ended our friendship a couple of weeks before, I figured she moved away. Seeing her with you put a pain in my heart that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I rose to my feet slowly, listening to you both gasp when you pulled your faces away from each other and noticed me. I couldn’t move, body as still as your face. You weren’t you. An emptiness rested in your eyes that I swore to not care about, but I failed miserably to honor that. When you tried to approach me I ran between you both all the way outside. I went to my car and drove home. I ignored every call and text from you, for days.

Two weeks later I saw you sitting on the stoop of my apartment, blocking the door until I agreed to talk to you. In my opinion it was a very pointless conversation. You told me that after what happened with your father, you were lost and angry. You didn’t mean to take it out on me, but that I was so close to you and your family that it felt hard for you to be around me. You locked yourself away in your studio most of the time until you started drinking. Jasmine ran into you at some bar I don’t remember the name of.

“One thing led to another...” you said, and I tried to push by you to get into my building. I wanted to hide my tears from you. Your apology rang over and over in my mind no matter how many times I prayed to forget it.

Then you said what I needed to hear. You never fully committed to me. We weren’t official. You didn’t want to ruin what we had. I looked at you and felt the heat in my body elevate. I stormed away before I did something I’d regret. You called out for me and I kept going. The tears I cried into my couch pillow were more than I’d cried the last few years of my life. I begged to understand how we got to that point. I tried to pray the ache away, the memories, the lies. I even prayed the truth away. I wanted to stop the feelings. I needed it all to be a dream. But it wasn’t. You and I weren’t something special as I once thought.

In the spirit of facing reality, I had to distance myself. I had to erase the you I thought “you” were and accept the “you” that made yourself known. You needed help in a way that I couldn’t provide. As much as I wanted to be enough for you, I learned that I was not the problem. We were at the part of our journeys that were to be taken alone. It’s painful to admit that. You need to heal without me. I need to see that life exists without you, and that I deserve something real. Limitless. A love without condition. A love that can overcome fear, even if it was just love for myself. To say that I hate you would be wrong. I don’t. But you had something good in me. I can’t force you to see that, and I can’t allow myself to be the punching bag for your pain. I beat myself up so much, believing that somehow it was my fault. I didn’t do enough to support you. Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried to help or break up the fight. Maybe I shouldn’t have waited two weeks to find you. Maybe some of that was true, maybe it isn’t.

I write this letter six months after that day, after the last time I saw you. I write this because again, I want to be true to myself. I’m stronger than I was. I’m living the life I dreamed and prayed for, one step away from Chief Editor. My friendship with Leslie is flourishing, in addition to some new friends that have come along. Between therapy and different health regiments I’ve adapted, my life is pretty beautiful. Not easy. But beautiful. Again, one thing I’ve learned is that I do not wish to hide or pretend. I have no expectation for this letter other than the hope that you’d read it and hear my heart. I’m telling you this because for one, it’s true. Two, maybe somewhere down the line these words can help you see yourself the way I see you. The way God sees you. Maybe these words will help you heal, knowing that you still have the opportunity for love. For joy. For a life that doesn’t have to be all tragedy.

So here are the words. Take them however you see fit. Just know I mean it, from the bottom of my heart.

I love you.

Love,

Me

I saw her 
underneath the shade
of one already withering 
clinging to a life once lived 

                She had her own shadows
                baked in her bark 
                For some, sunshine meant light
                but for her
                it was exposure
                it meant zooming in
                to see her lens broken

The glare that seeped through the leaves
was only sent to burn away
the facade

                                            She doesn’t hide because you think it’s cute
                                            or because you think it screams mystery

                                            She hides because she screams misery
                                            but she knows how to make it look beautiful

                     You may even see her dancing there
                     one hand holding hope
                     and the other gripping grief
                     but there is no smile

Her eyes are closed
because the light is too bright
and her tears will only feed
the willow tree

She’s afraid
if her tears give it more life
it might do the same for her