Ink to Paper Drought

 

W R I T E R S    B L O C K

 

I tried to compose whatever emotion I felt towards this semester, I could not. Things had already been said to the ones I care & speak to most, why would I need to elaborate more? The usual lessons learned, another semester passed, did not seem too important that I could find the words for it. Next.

 

I knew better than to be vague or cruel or too heart - on - my - sleeve. So I spared those who ever care to read this thing of my restless nightmares & wounded heart, due to my own hand it once seemed. I have dried those lost eyes now, & fixed them on something much more capable of handling wild things like me.

 

Then there was a more lighthearted vibe of donuts & white chicken chili. Food. Fellowship. Friends. I could share the stories of seeing my city through fresh eyes not from here & accepting the assistance in parallel parking on Euclid Ave. But of course, no words came & I again rolled over in my twin bed, surrounded by black & magenta walls my younger self compromised mom for. Defeated.

 

Read a few chapters in a book I bought for half price in Atlanta. Even watched my favorite movie. Hoping to find some sort of inspiration anywhere. Chicken scratched away more confusion, questions, & words that were much too seasoned with anger for shared growth. There was no music in those words. I was stuck... honestly I'm still kind of stuck, I am just writing about it now.

 

Maybe the constant struggle I had (have) with setting high standards for myself at a young age. Now seeing the base/mid way point to some of these hurdles (mountains) I am beginning to question the 14 year old me. Nope. Can't muster up enough humility to admit that what I chose has me sobbing in a mini van, fumbling for that dumb cell phone, to call the only person I know who mourns and celebrates like me. Or maybe when I took my best friend out for coffee (the stuff I can't have anymore cause my heart is too much of a freaking risk) And she hears the screams on the other line of a phone call. Sorry but it was hard enough to tell her what a mess this was, let alone tell the public.

 

Along with those high standards for myself - I also mess up a lot with my sisters. Both. Older & younger. Unfortunately for the younger though, she's had to deal with me everyday of her life. Gross. Family issues never really seem pleasant to write about though - so we stick to the pretty, the well groomed, well mannered, hush hush, kind of family life. Thankfully my sisters & I know how to fail miserably - but own up to those failures with grace, honesty, & a willingness to get back up again. This season of our lives we are now old enough to look each other in the face (or in some cases on the phone) & deal with things. Lay them out. Yell, cry, breathe, & hug. No, family matters couldn't be delved into just yet though.

 

Maybe if I wrote about the goodness & simplicity that was this last week? Playing house in the at home store with my best, cuddling a new puppy in a house off of E Louden, in that neighborhood I used to take hip hop class. Or playing kemps on the floor with all of the 2nd fam - new house - same full hearts. The dusting off of old records & reminiscing with my dad. Finally sending off an application that held some big moves.

 

If I wrote about the end of the year - or the coming of 2015 - I might just die now. Many people who know me, know that C H A N G E for me comes as hard as W R I T E R S   B L O C K for someone located on Oprah's book list for sure.

 

Anyway. All of this is too much for me to think about now & I won't stress myself out on not having anything to say in a poetic or learned way. There's some fresh paint tattooed on my heart & there are only 4 days left in 2014.

 

I'm praising God in this ink to paper drought & rejoicing that He isn't done writing my story just yet 

My Beat

This story started out with a beat - sometimes with a reproducible rhythm... and others, well let's just say they stuck this story in the back of the drum line it was so off beat!

 

This story is also known as mine.

 

This story came with themed music. Drums.

 

That's why this place filled with simple honest words is called, The Drums in My Heart.

 

Little did we know that a couple of scares, visits with grey haired, simple faced men, and a nurse who saw a strong young woman hold back tears because she couldn't control this, would prove that there really were drums in my heart. And that mine was special. My beat.

 

I've always been told that my heart was SO big.

 

And I have been able to get away with a few heart jokes this semester-  but since then things have gotten more real. The black outs, the racing heart, and can't hardly tell if my heart was beating days, made the story a lot more real.

 

Regardless of the unknown and hopefully soon-to-be known... I know that God made my heart. And no matter if there is a solution or more questions. I know God made my heart to do big things - after all my heart is SO big.

 

Tonight my best friends held my hands and prayed.

 

Tomorrow the story continues, and I will go through the motions in that office -

unveiling to knew faces just how special my beat is.

 

Aunt C

They tell me I've been an aunt for 17 years now... but I didn't feel like an 'aunt' until last night.
Maybe a cousin, or like a really, really, long lost older sister, to two beautiful girls.

I am the only sister that doesn't look like the rest.
And even the nieces look like my sisters more than I do.
But this week, last night to be exact. I felt like we all belonged together.
We share long, dark hair. Most of us have hints of the Cherokee skin, minus two who came from the Northern part of the country.
Blue Green eyes aren't uncommon.
Our heads are strong, and our voices are heard. Audibly and written.
Majority is tall. Majority laughs till we pee a little... we got that from Mom for sure.
We have learned more from experience and life, than the text books people have handed us.

My baby niece, who is the same age as some of our kiddos, is a giant. She has my body. My once bone straight hair. And my timid, but passionate personality when put in a room full of extroverts. She is curious. And I want to tell you about how she stole a hotel Bible.
I haven't been around long enough to tell her I am proud. Or to hug her after a competition, or watch and cheer her on in anything. But Tuesday night she showed me a Bible she took from a hotel "Only after I asked if it was ok." I was proud. And I still get teary eyed thinking about it. "I wanted to read some of it" she said. And I told her it wasn't stealing at all.
This is a big deal. That is all you need to know.
Little Rose. I am so, so very proud of you.

The oldest niece is a babe. Almost the shortest out of the bunch next in line to Grandma. She believes in love, but the love that is something you work for, and there is still a hint of Disney magic to it also. Her talents are many, and she is nothing short of vocal on what she thinks - her mom and I share that with her too.
Grown before I could be apart of her childhood - she is wise but still finds humor in everything. We have been up late the last couple of nights - until 3am actually.
Missed the first sprain, and all of the braces faze. You have a boyfriend now.
And I will break him if he gets any ideas to do you wrong!
It's hard to claim being an aunt to someone who holds a closer rank in your heart.
Ayla. Bold. Beautiful. Strong. I am so, so very proud of you.

I bought a dress. And it's not a big deal. But now that I know what it feels like to be an aunt, I don't ever want to forget it.

This day is to celebrate thankfulness. And I am thankful that even though I have "been" an aunt for 17 years. Yesterday, I got to claim it. And own it. And fully embrace what that actually looks like in real life. I am thankful for this crazy family. I have  a lot of titles - that's been said before, but I think I like this one the best. I am thankful for this city, my education, my friends, and for these two girls who see me bigger than I could ever see myself.


- Aunt C