Heavy Love

This is the part of the city that sleeps in till noon - and stays up with the street lights.

Where the boy on the corner dreams of hearing his name called in the first round of the draft - not being a corner boy.

But what made him want that dream? He is good at telling stories and putting them on paper - but taking care of his siblings cause his moms is working late makes it hard to turn in homework. So his grades reflect a bad student - below average - lack of sleep makes him a trouble maker - so a corporate job is out of the question, college is out of the question. The neighbors goal is the only resource he has to get out - and he will get out.

I walked down the street with a friends dog - because some times the simple tasks are the hardest to get done and when I can help I will. Stopped a dozen times by kids on bikes - receiving hugs and ignoring the older boys calls.

When I told them I picked her up from summer school they gave me a look full of judgment - like why is she in summer school? What they don't know is why they had to move - or that her sister isn't there anymore. I was just excited to see her.

In a place where we see "them" and become defensive - witnessing a cop hug my brother is considered a victory.

Certain topics of conversation are almost never off limits - this is family - and family listens and provides council. Whether it's the new girlfriend or a misunderstanding with the teacher. Maybe it's talking out how you don't "hate" a certain neighborhood, you just don't agree or get along with some of the people that live there because they want to shoot you. And they would if they had the opportunity. We go to those neighborhoods, and have family there too - but sometimes you have to be careful what streets you're on. No need to make more drama for ourselves.

This is the place where you show respect. Yes Sir and No Ma'am is required. Body language speaks louder than the words - and you better not forget your role even if you get comfortable.

This is the place where your job means you have to know who to call or what to do when abuse is detected. You are not the super hero. And even when they call me mom or sister people will never see it that way.

These are the days you wake up from nightmares hoping it never comes true.

"Doing life with a community of people" will never quite come across the way you want to - people will be confused - until they see it - then they will cry and wonder why it hasn't been obvious to them before now.

Vans full of Nike shorts and J clad feet - filling my ears with music - and my heart with joy.

The drug dealer across the street asked me a question - then I wasn't scared anymore. We understood each other. Respect is earned. We both believe in a similar end goal - except one of us is less excepted in the neighborhood. One of us has to show up a little more and gain approval. To prove I am not going anywhere.

This is the place where kids answer the door but know not to let you in. They just peek around the screen and glass and tell you what you need to know so they can slip back into the dimly lit room with cartoons on awaiting for mom to come home.

The van I drive is easy to pick out on the street - and now walking down the sidewalk I gain on average about 4 little bodies asking questions, wanting to be carried, and tell me they are fearless  "except jumping spiders - that crap is scary man."

Relationships. That is what happens when you show up. That is what needs to happen before you even try to make a sliver of an impact on the neighborhood - the moms - the daddies - the streets - relationships.

I am not blood. I am not an expert. I know what I know and continue to learn. I love the sweaty days spent talking about how I missed a birthday - obviously I wish I could have been there (wasn't actually invited) but the fact that he wanted me there. Me. Small victories.

Or when he... she asks for me and allows me into his... her little brothers life.

After last year she knows what I expect of her as a mother - it is not easy - but I go by randomly to make sure he is ok and they haven't burned the house down. Hand-me-down jerseys and folding laundry. We just talk about basketball and his future - because I will die making sure he has one. I learned that treating her this way was better. Not looking down and not pushing too hard - expectations that are doable - that you have to work at - because it will not happen again.

This is the place people lock their car doors while they drive through to get their second coffee for the day. Where fancy suits walk next to baggy shorts. And those other buildings are foreign to us.

I walk up to porches crammed with people - some not as happy to see me as others.
I join them on the porch, sit in the living room, or wait out on the sidewalk. That's what different stages of trust looks like.

This is breaking cycles. This is the struggle.
This is what hard -  easy - and heavy love looks like.