Anxiety got me started. Depression kept me going. Creativity peaked my interest. Passion keeps me consistent.
A Diamond in the Rough
Another one bites the dust, I said to myself. I was going through another breakup. The sad part is, this time, I thought he was the one. I never had good luck with men. I was always ready for something bad to happen or be found out. It was the January before my 27th birthday. We were breaking up because he was not going to be able to spend my birthday with me, for the second year. To add insult to injury, my birthday is on Valentine’s Day. I was done. I felt unimportant and stupid. I was in a long-distance relationship with a man who could not spend Valentine’s Day with me. Obviously, I thought he had a local girlfriend, and I must be his Florida side chick. As much as I told myself this was not true, I could no longer ignore it. This must be my reality. His reason? His cousin’s birthday is the day after mine, and he needed to be there for her. Any reason he gave would not have mattered to me at this point. I would no longer be made a fool of, even though I knew he was my soulmate.
My Prince of Peace
Hello! I would like to formally introduce you to Sir Princeton Rutherford Elliott III, but he goes by Prince. He was the most unlikely candidate for his job as my emotional support animal, but time and time again, he rose to the challenge and has taken his role to new levels. In my opinion, he should be inducted into the emPAWyee Hall of Fame, if there is one.
A Rainy Day
Thank God it’s Friday! I can’t wait for the weekend! I had a wonderful prayer walk this morning and a beautiful meditation session at lunch. Today is going to continue to be the best day ever. I can feel it. It’s a rainy summer afternoon yet breezy. Most people don’t like the rain and find it depressing. I, however, love the smell. It smells like an airy waterfall. It sounds like peace. The thunder and lightening sounds like two clouds making love for the first time. The rain has so much personality. It can describe the mood for your day perfectly. Sometimes it is a day of sadness, and all you can do is cry due to a broken heart. That’s the day you put on Etta James and cry with her. The rain can also have the mood of despair and suicide where you can’t cry or even get out of bed. You might not even know why you feel that way, but the feeling is too strong to move. The rain can also mean three roommates stay in, order pho and fried rice, and binge watch “Living Single”. It’s when you laugh so hard all day with friends that you cry. I call it a “Sex and The City” day. It could also be a day of wonder. Water has memory, and it is refreshing. You can find life in the rain. In my opinion, that is why pastors dip you in the water for baptisms and why priests sprinkle water on babies for christenings. It is because you can be reborn and transformed in water. You never know who you will turn into once you are free to be yourself, in the rain. When you’re free to let your hair down and not be worried about what it looks like when you go back under your umbrella. When you’re free to allow the water to become absorbed in the cotton of y9our shirt and not be worried about if someone can see your nipples through it or not. It is allowing the moisture to penetrate your pores and not be worried about if your makeup is running or not.
Tell Me You Love Me
“Why don’t you hold me anymore?”, the wife asked as she looked at the stained floor mat, while the question ate at her core. The car was already filled with cold air and a deafening, awkward silence. Now it is filled with smoke and tension. The husband rolled his eyes into his head, lit his cigarette and said, “I can’t sleep like that anymore. It’s uncomfortable for my back”. Her question was annoying to him, and his frustration was beginning to rise like boiling milk. “Are you not attracted to me anymore”, she quivered, as she attempted to choke back her tears. Just the thought of her first love no longer being interested in her made her want to burst into tears. She held onto the hem of her new dress, as if to brace herself for the answer to her question. “We just came from marriage counseling. Why didn’t you ask me this then?”, he scoffed at her. “If I wasn’t still into you, would I be going to counseling? Stop asking me stupid questions”. He could not hide his lack of empathy and adjusted his right hand, on the cold leather steering wheel. She could not tell if the weather outside had dropped ten more degrees or if it was just the ice her husband’s heart was radiating. He had become so cold towards her, since the beginning of the year, and she could not even muster up the courage to answer his question. She wanted to tell him that he has been so cruel to her lately, and whether he goes to therapy or not does not make it right. She also wanted to tell him, she did not have a chance to ask him, during their counseling session, because he tends to shut down and make it obvious, he would rather be anywhere but there.
Airport Love Crisis
I think someone should write a television series about my relationships. The title can be Get it Together. It would star me – a single, successful, young woman trying to find true love, in this cold world. You see, I am the idiot headed back to LaGuardia, in this old taxi. I might not even make it there, if my cab driver does not stop driving like he is the only vehicle on the road. How could I not see that he still had feelings for her? Technically, he is adamant he does not, but I found her letter professing her love for him. He admitted that he let her come take care of him, while he was sick, with COVID-19. I think he is lying because women do not just get feelings out of nowhere. From experience I can say, men tend to lead us on. I cannot blame her though. She is in love. Although what did I really expect? She is the mother of his son. Stupidly, I am in love with him too. And since I want him to be happy, I told him, he should give it another try with her and left. Now I am watching the rain pour down from this green cab and kissing Brooklyn goodbye. I could never come back here as it feels like I am leaving a piece of me behind. My grandmother used to say that it rains because God is crying. Well at least God can express his tears. I am in too much shock to cry. I just feel stupid because I saw a future with him, instead of opening my eyes to the reality that she was still in his heart the whole time. You cannot just break years of history, love and hate like they had just because you care about someone new. I rolled down the window, to get one last whiff of Brooklyn, but now, in addition to the usual stench of the borough, I smell my own broken dreams and the fears that have always lingered, in the back of my mind. Brooklyn now smells like concrete and failure. As I swiped my card for the cab and grab my belongings, LaGuardia now smells like hope and depression, at the same time. As I walk through the automatic doors and stood in line for the ticket desk, I had hoped this next part would be like a scene out of a movie. I wanted the man I love to chase me with flowers, and we kiss and make up, while everyone claps. Unfortunately for me, it is not that kind of party. As I stand in line, I could not help but get lost in thought. Why couldn’t I make him happy? Was he always just meant to be with her? I was so lost in thought, I didn’t even hear the ticket agent saying next, until the man behind me tapped me.
True Love's Reach
I knew this night was going to be different. I knew from sitting in the car outside my cousin’s house, things were going to change. There was a relentlessness in the air. I could not tell why I wanted my cousin to get out of the car, but I just wanted to go home. My fiancé, Derek, and I had argued earlier as he thinks I take everything I have for granted, and I just wanted to finish talking. I couldn’t even focus on the conversation my cousin was trying to have with me as he was busy trying to ask me to come around more, since we live up the street from each other, yet we had not seen each other in years. Honestly, I do not care to reconnect with family. I have never been close to them. I am more interested in becoming part of Derek’s family than my own. The windows were slightly down so we could feel the change in temperature. It was getting cold, so I told him, “It’s about to rain, and it’s late. I need to get home.” I knew he was going to give me a tough time about ending our conversation, but instead I saw the yellow undertone, in his melanin skin, be flushed out by a blanket of white fear. I did not hear anything, I felt it. It hit me. I touched my head to find out what had hit me in the head so hard, but there was nothing there. I looked outside my window. I did not see anything. I looked back at the passenger seat for my cousin, but he had vanished. I thought to myself, my drink must have been spiked at my aunt’s house. Damn! Let me go home and sleep it off. As I walked up to my front door and put the key in the lock, I heard a strange voice saying, “Miss Elliott! Can you hear me?” I turned around, but no one was there. I rushed into my house, truly hoping someone I love was playing a sick prank on me because I had never heard that woman’s voice before. I locked the door behind me, grabbed my gun, and frantically checked the house for intruders. It was only then, did I notice this was not a prank – my beloved guard dog and trained emotional support animal, Prince, was gone. My anxiety arose instantly. I would have shot myself, in that moment in a panic, but I felt a blast of freezing air. Then I felt my body go numb limb by limb. It was in that moment I knew I was going to awaken to a nightmare, and I knew my drink had been spiked. As my body hit the ground, in what seemed like slow motion, I heard a man’s voice say, “Miss Elliott can you hear me?” I knew I was hallucinating, but when my head hit the floor, I heard a drilling sound then I had the worst migraine I have ever had. I thought my head was going to explode. The pain made me wish I were dead.
He is 80 and I am 72 now, but we are still just as crazy about each other as we were when we met at the young ages of 33 and 25, respectively. The year is now 2064. I cannot help but look at life differently now. The kids have grown and started to become gray like us. As we sit in our backyard for our granddaughter’s wedding, I could not be prouder of our lives. I am also quite proud of myself because I helped plan a gorgeous wedding. She picked the perfect day to have it too – springtime, March to be exact. We were so excited, when she asked if she could have her wedding here, but who wouldn’t want to? The view, from the mountains here in San Fran, is like no other plus the venue was free so clearly the baby is smart. We renewed our vows in this same spot when we moved here. You see, when we got married, we went to the J.O.P. because we were so focused on saving money and never cared to make a spectacle of ourselves, but we went on an amazing honeymoon. I still cannot believe he agreed to leave the states for that long.
Mission of a Lifetime
Have you ever watched smoke dance? I have. I saw it in slow motion. It moved effortlessly like a jellyfish’s tentacles dancing in the deep blue sea. It rode the wind, as it soared into the atmosphere. It sucked all the color out of my hometown – well what used to be Miami. Now Miami is an awkward stranger that I cannot seem to get away from. It was 15 years ago to the day. It was the first time I had been trapped by smoke. I used to choke on it. My lungs have adjusted now. Two years ago the war seemed to dissipate. A racial war brought the world to it’s knees. Governments fell. Regimes toppled. As quickly as pacts were made, they were broken.