Conformed by my feelings..

Today, I missed you more than yesterday and even more the day before that. As each day passes by I am comforted to know I have the distinct pleasure of getting to know you even if it’s by texting. The mere thought of you brings an endless smile to my face. I was beside myself and though your a million miles away I felt even farther now that I wasn’t in my usual places conversing with you. Since getting to know you, you have become a significant part of each day and my life on a whole. I can’t see a day passing by without talking to you. Our conversations are built upon understanding with such significance of dare I say, love and happiness on our pending journey.

Here’s what I want you to know, the distance between us can only strengthen our bond. We may have limited conversations but there everlasting on my mind, we started out hopeful so it remains the string that’ll be our saving grace. In such a short amount of time you have managed to alter my emotions making me realize that no negative outlook should be a determine factor on a beautiful ending. I should rely more on the positive aspects of life to overcome all my discontent and fear. If time zones aren’t an interference in our lives then nothing else ought to be a distraction. Time heals all broken wounds and as such time is the reconstructor of limitless possibilities. Consistency on our part is key to a brighter outlook.

Think it not strange how strong of a bond we share without meeting? Think it not strange of the emotional attachment we are building?

SH

Anonymity

You brighten up my day, every second, every minute and every hour. I smile now more than ever.

About the way you entered my life, How clever.

Who would’ve thought my backwards thinking

Would’ve open the doors, much less allowed you in.

The subtlety and context vary in factors but exchanges are unlike any before

We have a budding relationship, which is stable enough for the potential to score.

My mysterious man is a stark reminder that there are good ones still left in this world,

Despite fear, despite complexities, and most of all being a fearful girl.

What is to become of tormented soul

Who once abandoned loved and walked out on her goals.

Reflecting

In 2018 I’ve embraced who I am as an individual, mother, friend, and most of all as a woman. I’ve encountered fear and hopeless wonders that seemed to have set a standard in the previous years. This year I touch upon so many aspects of a motivational approach, from spending a restful week on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia to visiting major land marks in Downtown Toronto.

Then coming back home and driving all over NYC to get my children to and from Castings all the while sightseeing and taking in the scenery of beautiful New York City. The beautiful skyline view of the Financial District from DUMBO things that we aren’t Privy to in suburbia.

To barbecuing along the Hudson River. There was no shortage of joyful moments in 2018. With grace and humility I humbly thanked thee for all the precious moments as well as my shortcomings. All great things deserve a bit of light, a light that seems to bring brightness in our lives at the most opportune time.

I’ve embraced challenging times with optimism and the same fear of hope I was once confronted with but focusing on what lies ahead in times of uncertainties allowed me to overcome many obstacles. Every day of my life seems to be a constant struggle but none that wasn’t been faced before. Acceptance and virtuous behavior have been the theme of my year, this year! Pulling through like a horse dragging its chariots to the finish line, or better yet it’s humbled destination. I am nowhere near victory but I’m well on my way, this journey we call life is borrowed. Many realize its value later that anticipated leaving them hasten, making premature decisions that diminish or belittle their character.

I reintroduced in my life that of timeless wonders with each novels I read this year, each audible stories that played continuously on my way to work, and the countless newspaper story that caught my eye. I took on some of the most sought after, critically acclaimed literary work that has become nonetheless motivational and inspiring. Women who wrote stories based off their lives, and or from their point of views. I have being captivated by their greatness and the ability to be encouraged that I too have a story that will be worth telling one day.

Far be it from me, to criticize the country I now call home. As citizens we see it declining in value and standards because of the subversive leadership that has reintroduced misogynistic behavior, hatred, greed and the devaluation of immigrants seeking a better life. In short, This was my synopsis of 2018 in a nutshell and with that said I’m hopping for a more invaluable 2019. More traveling, meeting promising people, and reading more interesting books. I was encouraged to seek out what it was that brings joy to my life and go after it, set forth in the direction that my heart may follow. My life has being no shortness of wistful moments and such moments don’t go in vain and for that I will continue on such path of greatnesses.

Reflections, I stand face forward humbled by the mirror image before me. Looking at this woman who bloomed from an oasis of desert land. How beautiful she stands before despite the struggles of which she endured. The authenticity of the hope she clinged to and the optimism which she lost, then found, then lost again. To finally being able to stand in the presence of greatness despite it all. Never really fitting in, thoughts were confined by a single narrative, that their wasn’t room for me at the table. I found my Nitch as they say, I found what it is I’m interested in. A hobby that doesn’t dampen my spirit, a task I willingly look forward to each morning. I found something for you to hold on to dear girl, this thing has widen your imagination and brought your ideology to life. So my dear, straighten up yourself and stand tall cause your heading down the road to success, fasten your seatbelts because your about to take on the ride of your life.

You may have been weakened by what you consider your faults and broken by tendencies beyond your control. Those minor aspects of life were to get you on the path your currently on. You are redefining your spirits that will lead you along successful endeavors. As to how you complete the journey, it’s all on you for time is the master of all great things.

#reflections #traveling #family #thankful

Good byes aren’t welcome here.

You came into my life like a breath of fresh air

A believer and a optimist without despair,

You were to me, as temperance was to a child

Unwilling, defiant and some kind of wild.

Yes, you whisked in full throttle and without care,

Like the orient express swishing by You adorned me with hopes and fears.

Awakened my heart with your lovely sunrise of temptation,

To my wallowing cries of desperation.

You watched me as I matured more so than ever,

In my life being strong, combatted my fears and cushioned my comfort zones,

All the while Learning to be sweet, patient, but most of all clever.

As you leave me here standing patiently at the brink of greatness,

I salute you for all that you have opened my eyes to in this year of reckoning and faith driven kindness.

Thank you 2018, for your doting Pleasures

If it hadn’t being for you this girl wouldn’t have attested to her great measures.

(The winding road to my destination)

Photo: iPhone pic of my excursion into whistler

©️Samora Henderson

A Defining Year of The Past, Present and What’s to come.

January 1st 2018 I made a declaration. Despite the odds against me “2018” would be my year of redemption. Again, I counted all my eggs before they hatched. A saying in my Jamaican culture that is basically saying, one shouldn’t jump the gun. While I truly learned a lot in the year of 2018, there is no greater joy than that of realizing my shortcomings and working on them.

As I look back at the previous years I realized I was in so much of a hurry to be an adult I forgot to live. Like most young girl who was mesmerized by the idea of womanhood, we were privy to all the details as we are now as actual woman. While I was in college I never experienced the true college years, the memories of life teaching me to overcome all the obstacles, hardships, and mishaps I’d endured. My college years were disrupted due to motherhood, the ultimate lesson of procreation, responsibilities and time proved that certain lessons couldn’t prepare me for such a task. I learned more than any college class could teach me and it is my most important job to date. Today it remains my most successful job to date and I wouldn’t change a minute of it. I learned to multi task early as I juggled class with the responsibilities of being a doting mother. A task in which I welcomed graciously given the fact I may not have lived out my full potential as the twenty-one year old girl I had envisioned earlier growing up. When you were brought up in such strict Caribbean single parent household such as myself, you have nothing but time on your hands you become a master planner. You map out ways to take control of your life, a type of control that warrantees independence. I wanted to know what it was like to be just that free from expectations of my mothers grip, free from her hierarchical control. In those moments i saw time as nothing more than morning, noon and night. Never had I equated time to Anything substantial because I felt I was living according to someone else’s time, or rather on curfew time. Becoming a mother invigorated me.

To date my biggest mistake was not going away to school. I failed myself miserably by not going away to college. I look back now and realize that it’s my “if only I did”, the only time I had the ability to fly the coop as they say. It was definitely not one of my brightest moments until this day I still beat myself up over my decision to stay home after high school and attend community college. My life then wasn’t even a mirror imagine of what I wanted and had imagined for the twenty-one year old me who wanted to be finished with school and to be traveling the world. The idea of time then was null, I was living according to everyone’s opinion of what my life ought to be. Everyone had something to say, like I was a peasant girl living in a narration type of story. The storyline however was just a girl living according to everyone else’s standards. There is a saying “if I had only knew back then what I know now” the outcome of certain aspects of my life would be different today, much different.

Flash forward to current day 2018. I am a mother foremost and a damn good one at that. I’m living according to my standards which took me a long time to get to this moment. I have learnt a lot from people who I would never imagine would be in my life, friends that has crossover the familial lines, co-workers who have attributed more knowledge and support than family members, and of course my four children who have grounded me in times of unsuspected circumstances. To say I’m well on my way to being an responsible adult is an understatement. Matter of fact at thirty-eight I’ve survived things my peers would have succumbed to. Time now proves to be more essential to me now more than ever. I know the value of time, but still trying desperately to make the most out of my allotment of it. I realize that time holds no prejudice nor does it differentiate amongst anyone or anything. I heard somewhere that a rich man and a beggar both have the same 24 hours in a day, which I don’t think is an accurate depiction of time in my efforts to validate my point. It seems juvenile to state a man of unlimited resources have the same opportunities as a man begging for change or looking for scraps, for one the beggar is making use of his twenty-four hours to the best of his ability. I won’t even begun to try and justify a rich mans twenty-four hours because i relate more to that of a beggar than a rich man in any given circumstances.

In 2018, I now truly understand that “time waits for no man”. It is the only thing in this universe that can’t be altered, No one has control over it for it keeps pushing forward no matter what. Understandably, working twelve hours a day I can easily inventory my day but in 2018 I am learning to be creative with MY time. It is now that I have learned that being unapologetic of my mishaps, unapologetic for chances I take and being relentless in my efforts to try things that once made me uncomfortable all while being a responsible doting mother shows my maturity level. It fertilizes my manifest destiny as I know not where the road leads but I remain on a path that seems refreshing and ethical. In my current stance on life I take nothing for granted with lost and opportunities that slipped through my fingers. I’ve learned second chances are an attempt to redeem the soul as the universe now see me fit to take on new adventures because of my mindset. As a woman with limited access and resources I try my best to work toward things of incredible value knowing full well I have individuals dependent on me, and that my legacy towards them will be far greater than a memory that will fade over time. In 2018 I’ve learned that circumstantial evidence is just that circumstantial. Overnight we have become accustomed to failure under a government who deemed people like me a burden on society because my mother came here to this country for a piece of the American pie. Then again, with time this too shall pass. Not quickly enough though, personally the last two years under the leadership of this Political regime has being a drag, a total blow to the humanitarian efforts of what this great country once stood for. Again, with time we will Immerge from this state of mind blowing dissension.

I now declare 2019 as a year of hopeful opportunities. A year filled with optimism and celebratory moments of struggles that once confined me. I hope to carry with me in the year Two thousand and nineteen Love, an dying love for myself, children and those who have helped to uplift me I n times of hysteria. potentially I have the wherewithal to be a woman of substance. Granted, I have an ample amount of time to be able to understand how people differ. That it takes some people more time than others to reach a particular level of comfort. We don’t all get “it” on the first try, or the second try there is enough time for us to try and try again if the satisfaction quota was not met in the first couple attempts. We eventually arrive at a point of comfort despite our efforts.

I have entertained countless amount of false hopes, stiff promises, And neglectful thought over the course of the year. I am claiming joy in 2019, so much so I am starting to feel it in my bones. My transgressions have being a long time coming and so I claim them wholeheartedly. Time is now moving at warp speed, right before my eyes and as such I turn a blind eye to careless thoughts, juvenile behavior, and unsolicited anger for they will and always be a distraction to me. It is with great honor that I be of infinite joy and endure bountiful blessings in the coming new year and years to follow. Good health and wealth seems to be the trending prayer of all New Years prayer. Speaking for my self I wish for health and strength through out the year, not only for a particular season. Wealth is defined by those who are well off in monetary form. I just wand wealth in the form of happiness.

©️Samora

📸 courtesy of my iPhone: my progressive approach to 2019.

How thy words flow…

Have you ever felt knocked down by day to day task? Demolished by feelings of insecurities? Or even champion for a cause only to find out, you don’t have what it takes. Well then, join me in this life long quest of mine. A challenge I wholeheartedly decided to take on despite my lack thereof. See, growing up I had difficulty with my speech seeing that I was an immigrant from a foreign land. I couldn’t write a sufficient sentence much less a paragraph. I hated reading because I didn’t have the knowledge to differentiate the vital parts of a story, to me it was all one big cluster. Reading books overwhelmed me to the point where I lost interest, little old me just could not keep up with English literature. For years this went on, and for years I referred to spark notes or those books for dummies.

Over time I evolved and found a great love for writing. Poetry became a calming mechanism for a world where I found it hard to fit in. Satisfaction came in waves, a feeling that often orchestrated my mood in the best of times and the worst of times. Poetry put me in a authentic illustrious vibe when it caught my attention. Short and to the point, well written, and the flow of words coinciding to say the least. Thoughts and ideas vary immensely and no two interpretation are often the same. Similar to an abstract painting.

I could do that, I could imitate poetry until I was able to carry a baton of words on my own, on a sheet of paper until my words become sufficient. Then in the tenth grade, I think I was introduced to poets like Dr. Maya Angelou, and Langston Hughes and realized their style of poetry spoke volumes to me. Sitting in the last seat of the first row I became accustomed to I know why the cage birds sings. For every “I rise” or “I’se climbing” I felt motivated not only by the message but by their use of words and the climatic factor, these authors were like me, they represented me, they were paving the way for a lil colored girl like me. No matter the poet, no matter the style I was tentative. I was in awe of poetry and I found myself keeping up from the shortest haiku to the longest of the Beowulf series. There was no poetry I didn’t enjoy. There wasn’t a right or wrong way to write Poetry I told myself. You have to be able to be flexible with words, play with the words till eventually they all come together. I felt I belonged somewhere with my new discourse, my new awkward hobby occupied my wondering mind. Again, I was in awe with each new works of art I found among the world of poetry.

So here was my stance, defeated by books that contained multiple chapters and a cluster of words that would make me feel insufficient. To my rescue came the beautiful art of spoken words in the form of poetry. Love often accentuated the positive and negative aspects of human emotions. As I wrote my interpretation of poetry in my many notebooks I realized how intimate words were. They accentuate the lyrics of which we are solely trying to get across by means of communication methods. The words often set the tone of the point we are trying to get across. Words can undoubtedly be used of intimate scriptures that somehow alludes the heart, or harsh words that reiterates conflicts and start confusion. Nonetheless words have awoken my sense of creativity and while it continues to be a growing process, it remains one of my first true love.

(beautiful village in whistler Vancouver)

Just a Thought….

Waking up each day is a blessing

Walking through the door is rolling the dice of life.

At the end of the day after all is said and done your luck is measured up to your daily accomplishments.

No one said life was a garden of roses, or like a casino with straight sevens in sight.

Life is unpredictable a lil bit of sun, a lil bit of rain, and scores of natural disasters.

So instead of comparing, be proactive and Regulate your “NORM”.

Be the one that’s different, don’t make your life’s goal to Standout.

We are quick to judge and fall short to encourage

As a society we have adapted the “like” and “love” terms so much so that we fail to appreciate what’s readily obvious.

Life has a way of humbling us when we least expect it.

-SH

Where has Christmas Spirit disappeared to?

We are now closing out the first week of December and I have yet to enable my Christmas spirits. Another year of a somber Christmas mood i reckon. Last year I spent my entire Christmas Day on a 24 hour binge of “Greys Anatomy” particularly season 11 where I cried like a baby, because I lost the imaginary love of someone else’s life. If that’s not strange and depressing enough to be crying over a tv character. I don’t even remember getting up to eat because Netflix was my companion for the day and with or without me the program was sure to go on. Again, I’m stuck in a whole other predicament but luckily Netflix won’t be my comfort this year.why? I will be working in the non affected healthcare arena, where Holidays are considered any old day and mean absolutely nothing to the underpaid non salary workers. I am among the lesser valued employees who keep a company going by the blood and sweat of my labor but we are similar to that of paper towel in value. As much as we would like to devote our holiday to our children and family we are now required to work two holiday. In other words it’s mandatory to abandon your family for time and a half wage. Which unfortunately doesn’t do much for your paycheck. Somewhere along the line of career choices I lost track of what Christmas meant. Working class America has now conveniently connected Christmas to retailers biggest sales event. No more true meaning to Christmas except for the embolden Santa Klaus version, the white man who joyously drops a bag of gifts down your chimney and graciously fills all the empty slots under the Christmas tree. Me personally i much rather my Jamaican version where I was too poor to even associate gifts with Christmas. Where we would go to church and celebrate the true holy meaning of Christmas that is known to my family’s religious entity of the birth of their savior Jesus Christ. Again, forgive me I’m not of a joyous mood with the hypocrisy of what Christmas should entail. These beliefs are solely based on my values and mine alone.

Here I walk the halls of the place where I spend most my days, and most of the year, on the job. A job that once captivated my heart because it was along the path to a career that I lost interest in along the way. I walk these halls as a constant reminder of my failure. As I enter each department the constant reminder of a joyful season hit me like a cold breeze on a winters day. The Grinch in me disavow the colorful lights, the poinsettia trees that are displayed every freaking where, the huge red bows that look like the one on the Mercedes Benz commercial that I wouldn’t mind being in my parking spot, and finally all the Christmas trees that line every department and rooms in the facility. So, as Im forced to confront the season, I couldn’t escape the Christmas holiday spirit if I tried.

At home my children are excited. The joys of making Christmas wish list is a stark reminder of all the loose leaf paper folded nicely in areas of the house I find a temporary moment of solace, the idea of a ten day vacation from school, and the idea that Santa Klaus still exist. As if we aren’t tormented enough on a daily basis by Unpredictable natural disasters, scandals after scandal, and more intuitively the world as we know it falling apart. The sarcasm in me wants to tell them That Santa Klaus is stuck at the Border waiting for the mysterious caravan because reindeers were deemed illegal immigrants trying to cross the border. It’s then I realize both the joke and satire are neither funny or humorous because The world has become so sensitive that it lost its funny bone. The days at laughing at ourselves no longer exist because someone else share the same story and to them it’s personal, and how dare you make light of their situation. At times Santa and the idea of him can be a nuisance to me, selfish me ask myself how can Santa get all the credit for me emptying my account. To simply state it, he is a man who name carries more weight than my entire being. I find it ridiculous to write from Santa on all the gifts I purchase, as I said before There is a dark cloud which sets just above my head at this time of year. I know I seem bitter! How dare I state the much obvious selfish questions like I really want to take on the world largest teddy bear without cause. I blame it on my mood, like I said before there is not one bone in me feeling joyous at the moment. But guess that’s the kind of mood I’m currently exhibiting. I find laughter in the most informal things now a days. Why not? The Way the world is running its best to laugh when you can and as loud as you can. My children are what keeps me going so I will suck it up and pretend to be the most joyous person in the universe just for them and no one else, At least in their eyes. Consequently the other eight hours when I’m away from them I’ll be the one who finds a fault with every decoration that alludes to the false Christmas spirit.

I maybe a miserable old hag to some but I will not rob my children of one of childhoods right of passages. My biggest thing is I work my ass off to buy Christmas gifts doing jobs that aren’t equivalent to my talents, then this guy who comes around once a year in a red pajama supposedly down a chimney gets the credit. Their I go sounding like a broken record, a bitter woman, or a Hater as Society would label me. Yes, a bitter woman who on all accounts hasnt done half the things society has accused her of doing. However everything has being categorized by her status of being a single black female equivalent to bitterness a picture so boldly painted. In my defense I like to fight my own battles and come out on top yet strong enough to acknowledge the difference between empathy or sympathy. Telling my children Santa Klaus don’t come to the hood wouldn’t make a difference either. Why? because they are so convinced that they are a part of the upper echelons of society because of their enrollment in the predominantly white school. At this point I’m all out of tactics I implore I have to fulfill their wish list to the best of my ability, I have to be involved in the decorating of my own pre-lit tree, and as I hang each decorate ornament to soothe their weird taste or whatever it is they call it, I take a sense of pride knowing “I’m able”. I do it for the lasting memories, In hopes of leaving a footprint on my children’s memory for them to recall their happy time.

Today I have to do some deep soul searching, of the uneventful events that demolished my love of Christmas. At some point in my life I’m going to seek a seasonal intervention that will reconnect me to the memories I suppressed of times when Christmas was just that of Christmas. The first thing that comes to mind is spending it in Jamaica with true authentic family and friends, pure and unfiltered me was tapped by joyous moments and memories that would surface on the not so merry Christmas living abroad. The idea of gifts was invalid, family was all that mattered and traveling to Jamaica was the thing. Those were my fondest memories of Xmas, where love and family intertwined. Now that seemed like ages ago cause no longer am I a candidate for the joys of Christmas on the Island. I am the island, I am responsible for the task at hand bringing Christmas to the kids and making it as memorable as the ones I had as a child.

Dr. Davies Farm

Today I volunteered to chaperone a PreK field trip to Dr. Davies farm. All and all it was great, a first for me. Raising two older girls, I missed out on Many opportunities such as this. It was Simple, I didn’t know how to use my time Effectively . As a result time was never on my side. Here I am much older and somewhat wiser, realizing that this is the last go around of what seemed like a never ending cycle of school in my house. What better time to master the parenting skills and in a timely fashion I adjusted my schedule in order to partake on their journey of making memories. Though my twin boys have no shortage of love and affection, they are more capable than the two older girls. Why not relish in the moments I missed with the girls? I asked myself, this was the first step in the right direction. I was so busy searching for new methods of thriving, I forgot to make an impact on the girls earlier childhood memories. Many times I question my parenting skills, always putting my best food forward sometimes I bury myself in my own sympathy forgetting the vital role I play in all my children’s life. It was my lack thereof that brought me to this very decision today.

I decided I wanted to take a different path with the boys, a different approach after all a mother set some kind of standard in which her son seek a companion. Today was Khalebs turn. I would go with Khalebs class this morning, since both boys were in separate class. Khaden would only acknowledge me if I was wearing a transformer outfit and even then he would try to rob me of it just so he could wear it, other than that his love for school pretty much out weighed my presence. In any event, the classes would be combined on the bus so it wasn’t like I was totally abandoning my spontaneously overly excited child, who ran instead of walk, who could take off on a moments notice without a hint of warning.

At 8:15 am I reported to the respective classroom where I was greeted by the teachers and my innocent and observant KHALEB. He was like a parrot at home but in school he received nothing but praise for his good behavior and his responsiveness. He waved to acknowledge me, but remained seated on the sitting Mat where his name indicated his position. Today, I hoped would be the first of many, requesting the day off from work to be fully invested in the pumpkin picking excursion, myself and the boys first pumpkin patch experience. It was cold, windy day, but on the upside the sun highlighted the beautiful scenery. One of those contradictory weather forecasts. The thirty four eager prekindergarteners were overly excited, I doubt the cold weather mattered much, they jumped, they ran, they fell, but mostly they were overjoyed to climb onto to the wagon and roll through Dr. Davies farm. I haven’t being on a hay ride before and this was a first for me like my boys. On our way to the patch me sitting between the boys as the brisk sharp wind brushed across my face, we cling to each other for that extra warmth. There wasn’t a cloud in the bright blue sky, the sun was shining effortlessly on the orchards of apple as we drove through the patch. Forbidden to touch the fruit as it hanged over into the pathway to the patch, we could only look at the beautiful fruit as it was clearly tempting the Prekindergarten students who wanted a snack.

Khaden was sitting on that hayride for a good five minutes, his cooperation span was limited and he was itching to run the cornfield that was adjacent to the pumpkin patch. I tightened my grip upon my wild child for I knew if he let go he would take off without conviction and abandon his designated pumpkin picking area. As we searched through the surmount of pumpkins to pick the most desirable pumpkin for each boy, they picked the smallest pumpkins that could fit in their grip. Well that decision lasted a whole minute and as each of the thirty-four children picked their pumpkins we headed back to the wagon to depart from the patch.

Through the fields we commuted slowly, the ride was ever so bumpy as we fell in every Rut and mud holes. As we departed the patch I realized how effortless this decision was. I have created a Chapter in my sons story that hopefully will continue to ring true to the experiences that they had as a child, even if the memories fade the picture still remains. I myself had one for the books, such a remarkable experience on the count Of being present in support of Khaden and Khalebs first pumpkin patch. These were the moments that define my hands on approach to motherhood, to be able to stand up and say I volunteer to be among the memories that initiated a valuable gift that will eventually make a difference one day. As a mother I want to fill any and every void of isolation, not good enough, and second guessing in my children’s life. Though it may be a long shot in this harsh society we live in, my main agenda is to leave an indelible mark in my boys life.

We boarded the cheese bus destined for the school, all the kids were at their limit. Four year old has a Rush, a peak and eventually they crashed. As we depart Dr. Davies farm another school arrives to make memories of the fall pumpkin season. So much tales of a three hour long journey, by the time we hit the Tappan Zee Bridge my Khaleb crammed into the seat where all three of us sat, he fell asleep amidst the laughter and chatter that overwhelmed the bus. As for Khaden he was alert the entire time, unable to sit still reminding me that Halloween was around the corner and that his costume for this year would be a transformer. Optimus prime mom, he said. I called you mom he said and I will call you that when we reach the school. A stark reminder of how our title changes depending on request. Today, I bonded with my boys and it was the best feeling in the world. As a single mother I tend to focus on the bills more than my children’s well-being, I was taught food, shelter and security trumps a motherly title given my predicament. I intend to change this Generational cycle that I grew up in, it was ambitiously handed to me by my mothers action though I take full responsibility for my role in all that I do.

Finally, we arrived back at the school with all thirty-four pre k students, parents and teachers. Our pumpkins weighed heavily on my shoulder as I carry them in my bag, but unlike many load. This load I was willing to bear.

Just Me!

There is a greater purpose to seek in life, I’m just trying to find it. See all my life I have been trying to climbed to  the top of this mock up wooden stairs. With each climb I realize they’re  missing nails, the loud creeks and the loose boards.  The hidden obstacles? And at times the eerie glance behind me to see the depth in which I have climb leaves the mysterious feels. In search of redemption? Or onward to the hope I once envisioned.  Who knows, but those are some of my many dilemmas I face each day as I wake up.

Consequently, all my concerns prior have being my lifelong experiences as a student, a mother, a daughter, a friend, and as a lover. Those titles have pretty much summed up my existence to date.  To say, I have yet to experience failure is an understatement.  I was the product of failure, I lived through failing times and I reproduced in a failing way.  I thought my adult years would be filled with victories, endless wins, and multiple accomplishments. Boy! I couldn’t be more far off.  Through the full despair of my shadowy past I will always hold on to that inch of hope while trying my best to abandon failure.

I have  yet  to find the road to success,  though I believe the journey along 9A will pave the way to one.  Not to say I expect anything to fall upon me without working for it at all.  Still, the hopes and dreams of that immigrant girl who arrived on June 16, 1989 will one day be validated inspite of it all. I still have this weary vision or life ahead of me where triumph seems to be whispering my name.  Calling out from a direction that’s unbeknownst to me, though the whispers continue to get louder as I write my innermost thoughts.  It seems that I relinquished my innocence to those who seem to have the upper hand, but despair seems uncanny at this point.  I will remain headstrong and vigilant.  I may not face success head on, But i want to be able to get my children so close that they bypass all the crossroads and obstacles and reach the gates of acceptance. As they arrive, to the threshold they will be welcome on behalf of my endless struggles.  To proudly say all I ever wanted was to seek a life filled with comfort and joy, ageless wisdom of which I crave as a lad and even more so as an adult would be an soluble reference.

Redemption is a long stretch, that carries you all over the stratosphere. Along the journey you will encounter divine intervention, solitude, and even desperation.  Family is a mystery within its own compass but their are clues that will allude you to be your true self. Let’s face it, being true is the new campaign for that Beautiful you. Life for me ain’t  being any “crystal stair” but I’ve found the beauty in my flawed version. From the eye sore of lovers, misfits of friends, and the dysfunctional unit I call family.  My gratitude is what has guided me in the best of times and the worst of times. Giving even when I absolutely have nothing menial of my own.  My ambitions has come a long way and my sanity has piggy backed those ambitions that has gotten me into trouble time and time again.  Life is unpredictable, for example who would’ve thought that I would end up a single mother and proud? Working tirelessly to be as efficient while bringing normalcy to a single parent household.  Again, my story reasonate from the Bible verse that hint about “God Putting his strongest soldiers on the battlefield”.  In this case My battlefield is of a woman like myself facing adversities after adversities and overcoming them one by one. When my twins have a orientation and I have to be in each class, my sixteen year old miss the school bus, or my nine year old has an audition in the city to some this may seem like a piece of cake but S a mother who uses time as her most valuable asset this is when ser have to slow down and think who and what can make these situations somewhat manageable?  I look to god, a cup of 14 ounce decaf coffee without sugar and gab my mojo. 

 Sometimes I surprise myself with each victory claimed, with each stereotype defeated, and the many struggles I’ve attacked head on.  Nowhere does it say, that there’s a particular order in which life ought to be lived.  For Years it seems I’ve being approaching everything backwards, yes! I’ve being living majority of my life backwards. Somethings are in order, and somethings are obviously not. The fact of the matter is I live humbly, trying my best all the while improving and tweaking the flaws but never correcting the dynamics that set me apart.  After all, their can only be one me though I reckon two of us would give me a competitive edge.  There is only one chance at witnessing and living the true authenticity of who I am.  Many people would be patient enough, some will give up before they come into their seasons of greatness, few will crumble on their last laps, and for those like me who society has already deemed unfit, continue with the lit torch.  Hoping to one day disperse the idea that though I’m categorized as dysfunctional, It will be regarded as the thing that brings about the beauty of me. Who says you can’t live your life in the way you choose?  Without repercussions or criticism.  My immediate reaction is to hell with them. Then again, my thoughtful consideration and humbling gesture suggest “until you walk a day in my life , don’t judge”.

As woman we need to show empathy to one another. We experience all levels of hurt and pain at different points in our lifetime. At times  we fail to recognize that life lessons are immeasurable and that sharing stories are what makes us greater Mother’s, individuals, and even greater human beings.  Their is no greater burden than thinking your in  this world alone, with no one to turn to. Coming together for the sake of sisterhood is the most charitable volunteer work women can experience. By all accounts it can result in empowerment and courageous efforts that will withstand the test of time, something our society fear and most men have yet to accept. So, as a woman I have grown tremendously and like everyone and everything I’ve learned to accept life as Is.