As far as I can remember the living space was quite comfy. I was in my father's supervision throughout the course of the day. However, Larry was a militant black man. His strict nature was something that I couldn't get used to. Larry made living with him comfortable, however, he really knew how to kill a girl's fun.
That's right, I was kidnapped by my father.
It was a cloudy Saturday afternoon in November. The house was quiet. Delores, my mother, was gone to work at the Ft. Lauderdale airport, which left 5-year old me in the care of my older brother, Jakes. While in the living room, enjoying my own company with the innocent amusement of PlayDoh and fake cooking utensils, my brother tells me “LaVonne I’m going to the store. I’m coming right back.” With believing him, I responded quickly saying “Okay.” and out the door he went, locking it behind him. An hour went by and he still hadn’t come back, I wasn’t worried though because I was in the comfort of my home.
My thoughts have always been amongst the realm of metaphysics. I can try my best to briefly explain the feeling of the soul within the human body. The syncopation of heartbeat, breath, and blood flow. The synchronization of thought, action, and dialogue. The human experience is fluctuation; the balance and imbalance of life. The human experience is imperfection; the trial, error, and lesson that we inevitably learn. The human experience begins before we can begin to appreciate it, and has an end that we all cannot fathom entirely.
Long late nights of losing what was meant for me.