Dear Soul Mate (poem)

Years have flown by
Time so unkind
Yet I would hate to rewind
Because you have yet to arrive
Where are you?
Why aren't you here by my side?
Is my love not getting through?
Pleas from my heart to the sky
If only you knew . . .
You must not because I,
I would not be alone
Wishing on stars in the night
If only you knew . .
If only you knew that between my legs await impassioned desire for you
That I ache so badly it hurts, for the man that is worth every bump in the road
Every bruise
If only you knew that I know you already
A man of God, of big dreams and of a heart that is heavy
That I am a rock
You can bear down. I'm that steady
Let pain go. Let tears flow. Break the levee.
My love can heal wounds if you're ready
I can be all these things if you let me
If only you knew!
How much it is that I love you
How much it is I trust you
To give love a second chance
To let go and be loyal
To what the stars lie before you
Which is me with an outstretched hand
I'm praying for you.
For you must be confused
My soul mate would come running if he knew what I knew
Oh If only
If only you knew

Friends With Benefits

                  We are all adults here. It's the year 2014. Women are allowed freedom of sexual expression or rather women have come to demand it and therefore it is at least tolerated . We've come a long way as a society. One would like to believe. So it kills me (yes, I die a thousand times) when people lack the common sense it takes to comprehend a friends with benefits relationship. The mere name of the relationship takes the hard work of thinking so much out of the equation. 

Friends. It's a common noun. As in friends. As in someone you share a mutual bond of affection with. You like this person. You respect this person. How far you take this friendship is up to you. It doesn't have to come with matching tattoos, daily conversations and the periodic outing or two however it can. As friends you two are the ones responsible for assessing the dynamics of your relationship to the convenience of your lifestyle. This defines your friendship. And that is the beauty of it. This relationship is only used to service the needs of the parties involved. So you can make of it whatever you desire. Whenever you so desire. In my opinion, the best kinds of relationships are the ones that defines themselves. Hence my natural inclination towards relationships in which a tittle doesn't exist. Or has yet to anyway. So you got the friends part, right? I like you. You like me. We share mutual a interest(s) and respect. Pretty easy. Let's move forward.

With. Now "with" is a little tricky. A simple preposition. In this case used as a function to indicate a combination or an addition to. "Friends with". Let's explore that. That means that the friendship comes with or is combined with something that isn't usually a part of a normal friendship. Something that doesn't fall underneath the umbrella of the friend definition. Friends with attitudes. Friends with money. Friends with yadda, yadda, yadda.  Notice how the word friend comes first as this is an integral part of understanding the expectations of  the relationship you are now defining. Stay with me now. You can do this. 

Benefits. Mainly sex in this situation. Friendship doesn't usually cross into eroticism. However, there is this spark that you two agree exist between the two of you and so you make an adult decision to delve into this kind intimacy. This may include the possibility of mainstream romance (dead/dying flowers, love letters, jewelry, etc) or PDA (public displays of affection) or even a rightful seat at family functions. May is the word you wish to pay special attention to in that sentence. That means it does not have too. These decisions are up to all parties involved. Open communication is key to developing a definition that you two can agree on. One that can help solidify the foundation that your friendship is based on.

So there you have it. So simple, I know. Yet there are people who still manage to misunderstand this concept. So this right here is to further assist  those who suffer from this very incompetence. Be a friend, first. If you have trouble engaging in sexual behavior without the comfort of a tittle, this is not for you. If your honesty is dependent on the your partner's openness, this is not for you. If you are afraid to voice your opinion on what your wants and needs dictate, this is not for you. And that is okay. This type of relationship is not for everyone. Now go out there and make wiser decisions. I thank you.

My Love for Bad Boys (Poem)

I swear something deep inside of me must love broken men
See my brain knows better
but these legs keep opening
For immense pleasure
Whenever he pokes it in
Hurricane weather
A deluge of sin
I'm thinking forever
He, the minute that we're in
And oh how it gets better
When I say lover, he says friend
Come again?
Is that what people call this thing?
When it is within these walls
that he seeks shelter from harsh winds?
You see,
The world pushes him around so much he comes to me bent
So I straighten him out every time he comes in
Every time that he commands
And yet he struggles with commitment
When I put "my" in front of "man"
I am not insane
His pain, I understand
It mirrors my own 
That is why I extend my hand 
That is what I am taught that God recommends
That is why I choose to wait 
In a drought for the rain 
Despite all signs insinuating 
no plant shall grow on these plains 
I keep falling for them
Over and over again
Hurt people, hurt people
So, I have hope for these men
And when the relationship is over
I still hold on to them 
Carrying on like a soldier 
Anticipating broken pieces to mend . . . 
even if it's in vain
It is who I am 

Blended Families

I will offend some with this post. It's nothing new. Just a forewarning in case you are currently not in the mood to entertain an opinion likely to offend you. Now, Let's proceed. I don't like blended families. Not loathing or abhorrence. I simply do not like it. Theoretically, if everyone plays nice and makes the welfare of the offspring of such unions a priority, then it's a cool thing to be a part of. Theoretically. Now I can only speak on what I know; my experience and observations. I was born into a blended family as well my own children. So I've been a child and an adult in both situations. It doesn't work. In this day and age, people (most) in this society, lack the maturity not to mention finances to adequately balance the responsibilities of a relationship with one woman; let alone two (and if it's 3 or more . . . run!). It's just not ideal. Three reasons . . .

1. Maturity
2. Finances
3. Home field advantage 

        Allow me to explain. As I've stated previously, most people lack the maturity to allow such a union to flourish. Some people like to forget that when a child is involved in a relationship, just because the romantic aspect has come to an end; the relationship with that person has not. It's difficult enough to prevent misconstruction from dissolving a relationship in which only two people are involved. Now add in a second party (or third) and misinterpretation is a manifestation you will encounter daily. Sometimes multiple times in the day. One must be grounded in patience and consideration to be able to give and receive the communication necessary to co-parent a child(ren). All it takes is one person to decide that their needs come first and the very fabric that holds the family together will begin to unravel. All parties involved must possess this kind of maturity. This doesn't happen often. 

        Now add in finances. It takes money to raise a child. Point . . . Blank . . . Period. One can only work so much. The money that a non-custodial parent makes has to be enough to support both families. Or what? Someone has to go without. The children come first so that leaves the adults. Someone is going to end up with the bad end of the stick. And if that person doesn't have their own fiances in order, it's safe to say that their ability to tolerate the situation will be severely limited. Is it even fair to ask or expect someone to remain in a situation that is detrimental to their financial security? And what is financial security? Food and shelter alone does not raise a child. Is your new partner willing to forgo future aspirations (vacation, college, new car, etc) for the sake of unexpected expenses (extracurricular activities, medical procedures, daycare, etc) caused by a child you created with someone else. Is it fair to even put someone in that situation? It's not an easy thing to balance. 

        And lastly, home field advantage. What's that? It's the mere fact that nothing replaces a parent that lives in the actual home. It's better than money. You have to work and sleep. How many hours in day is there left to spend with the people in your home? Now, what's left for the people outside of it? Depending on the kind of person you are, it is way more beneficial to be around you consistently, then it is to ever receive monetary support. Jealousy is an ugly beast but you explain that to a child who watches their half sibling go home with their parent every night. Tell that to a custodial parent that would like a 10 minute break from a colicky child at 0200 hours. Might I add the boundaries that must exist so as not to confuse things. No, you cannot be in that family portrait. No, you are not invited to Thanksgiving dinner or the wedding. This is your brother's grandmother but not your grandmother. Well, his mother lets him do that but yours doesn't so sit this one out. Mother's day and Father's day are voluntary holidays all of a sudden. You know? If you want to get your father a gift . . . etc. 

        This isn't to encourage or discourage anyone from engaging in a relationship in which the person already has a child with someone else. It's not something people usually think about until the run head first into an obstacle. And by then, already entangled into a web so thick the likelihood of  ever removing yourself from it is diminished. My only intention is to raise awareness to issues normally not bought to the forefront when entering these complex relationships. And of course, my usual mission to promote educated and conscientiousness decision making. God bless.

No, Curiosity Did Not!

So, on some nerd shit. I implore all people influenced by popular opinion to stop citing cats as victims of their own curiosity. It is not true. It is in fact care that killed the cat, not curiosity. And satisfaction never bought him/her back because he/her didn't die in the first place. 

In 1898, Brewer's dictionary of Phrase and Fable the line was quoted as "Care killed the cat. It is said that a cat has nine lives but care would wear them all out"

This misinterpreted line dates back to 1958 in Ben Johnson's playwright called "Every Man in His Humour"
        "Helter skelter, hang sorrow, care'll kill a cat, up-tails all and a Louse for the hangman"

William Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing"
        "What, courage man! What though care kill a cat, thou hast mettle enough enough in thee to kill care"

This reference makes more sense to me anyway. Just another line misquoted to shape the mind frame of the masses. Stay curious people. Now, that caring too much crap. Stop it. Stop it now. I have freed you! Lol 

Signs of a Genius

Psst, come here. Come closer. Closer than that. Let me tell you a secret. Only you have to promise not to tell my mother...okay? Well, do you promise? Really and truly? Okay, okay.....here goes.

I . . . I like it when my children make a mess of their room. There. I said it. I mean I love it. Their father can not stand the sight but it gives me life. The more it looks like a tornado hit it, the more exhilarated I become. Here me out now.
          It's a growing trend in this nation for children to lose themselves in front of a television. Imaginative play is almost extinct among the youth. Once upon a time, I took some children to a park and since we had neglected to bring a ball, they literally asked me what they should do. We were in a park! Swings to the left, a jungle gym to the right and a mob of other children in the middle. Needless to say, I was extremely flabbergasted. I vowed right then and there that the future child that I would adopt (because that was the plan back then . . . lol) would be quite familiar with imaginative play. My childhood memories are flooded with games we played in my concrete backyard accompanied by no toys. Yes, that's right. Zero toys. And we had an unbelievably fun time. 
        I just love to walk around my children's messy room and breathe it all in. The simplest observations delight me. C loves that book right there. P parked her brother's car in the dollhouse bedroom. L.P combined his mega blocks to form an intricate design around a train set. To see that the day prior, my son decided to be a cook one minute and then a train conductor the next is enlightening. Make possibilities seem endless. Television cannot do those things. It's also indicative of what is needed to expand on a certain interest or thought process. It took me finding a bridge created with some hardcover books over a train set for me to realize that he needed a more sophisticated set. His father saw an intentional disarray and I observed the findings of an engineer that could use a new set of tools.     
        Not to go into a drawn out history lesson here however there was a time black women were not allowed to love their young. They weren't be concerned about their welfare past a week. The atrocities they had to endure are beyond anything I could ever imagine. A mother's love is a mother's love. No words to describe it. No instrument can ever measure.  I think of my ancestors often and try to make my life a tribute to the very freedom that they could never breathe an air of. The love I have for my children is on acid. Or on steroids. Or whatever drug that can artificially enhance an experience. Whatever. I go in for my prodigies. I am a really hard worker. Everything I do is for them. So I fill their rooms up with everything and anything that interest them. It is for them so  I find it disturbing when I pass by their room and see that their toys and books are neatly stored where I left them. These items were not intended to be show pieces. Get in there and play. Explore. Throw it, break it, ride it, read it, etc. Don't make me kill you. Get in there and feed your mind! *smile* And let Mommy join you sometimes. We can clean up later. 
      
“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?” Einstein 

Carter''s Story

        We were just a mass of cells then. Listening to mother's accelerated heartbeat as she discussed future aspirations with our father. It is easy to tell when she is passionate about something. The heart never lies. "One more child" she explained to him. "I'll have to have one more so that L.P won't be lonely when I move away". L.P is our older brother. He was only 2 however she spoke of him often. Every cell is her body knew who L.P was. My sister and I had desires for that kind of fame however we were worried. Five days into our existence, I forced my way out of her to grow into a body of my own. Even then our energy would clash with one another. I couldn't wait any longer. We were already at odds over our shared placenta and I couldn't imagine having to share an amniotic sac too. Now here we were listening to our mother's heartbeat race at the possibility of one child. One child. I silently prayed she that she wouldn't mind one more.
        Mother was stupefied when our duplicity was revealed. Her reaction was so intense that when the doctor offered selective reduction, I felt my very existence hanging in the balance. I was smaller so the reduction would be me. I think they called me Baby B. Try to envision my relief when after a pause more pregnant than her, she whispered "no" ever so tenderly. She would keep us both! News of my sister and I were received with joy. Our mother's health, the food that nourished her body and prenatal supplements encouraged rapid growth. My dimple came in. Buds for our arms and legs began to develop. Bone started to replace cartilage. Our neural tube (brain, spinal cord, & central nervous system) was complete. And now that we were able to move, my sister and I bumped heads we barely had even more. I could have sworn she was receiving more attention from the placenta then I was. We were both thriving but I was in a constant state of hunger. Quit eating all of the food, sister! Mommy would not feel us fighting for weeks to come.  
           Fully formed by 3 months, we grew to be quite demanding. We had arms, hand, fingers, feet and toes now. We were hard workers like our mother and it took a lot of work to grow. We fed off of her energy to the point of depletion. Mother was in a constant need of sleep to save energy to care for our brother and go to work. My sister and I had disparate tastes too. Grandma made the best food however we wanted certain foods at varying times. When you don't like your food, you send it back to the waiter, right? Much to our mother's dismay we sent a lot back! Our twin battles would cause her to be regurgitate almost everything she consumed. This would be a long road.            
        20 weeks in and my sister and I just couldn't get along! We had separate sacs but our's mother's small stature made for very tight quarters. A sonogram appointment proved disastrous results from the pressure we were putting on her cervix. The worried doctor caught us right in time and ordered my mother to bed rest. I overheard her say that our chances for survival were slim to none. She was hoping for a miracle because she didn't have in her to ever try for another child if she was to lose us. When I overheard our Grandma praying over us, I just knew we had to deliver the miracle our family was hoping for. Even still our situation was declining. Surgery was performed in a desperate attempt to hold in two explosive personalities that wanted out. And we really wanted out!
        In the midst of it all, Mother found names to fit our distinctive personalities. My sister has always been gregarious. Even our sonographer found her luminescence undeniable (always dancing and showing the world that she was a girl). Her middle name would be inspired by our ever-supportive and frolicsome aunt. Her first name would be after a gentle soul much to amazing for this world. Peyton Gianna suits her perfectly. Since I was the more relaxed of the two and private in my affairs (I refused to share my gender for awhile); my middle name would be after my grandmother. The one who prayed over us. My first name would be after a special boy my mother said she never had the chance to meet but would always love. My name is Carter Marie.
        And so we stayed in. Peyton and I agreed to quell all disagreements and steady our spirits until the time came for us to depart this womb of ours. We already loved this woman who carried us so far. Peyton loved our mother's conversations with our brother. She couldn't wait to meet him. I couldn't wait to match the face to the voice that read me stories every night. So we held on. And yeah, we heard the date in which our doctor scheduled for our departure from the womb; but even so we were so excited that we came a day early. Let me tell you this, true love is true love. It's a magnet too. In a room filled with strangers, a victorious cry wasn't released until we saw her face. And man, she was beautiful. And do you know what was even more beautiful then that? Yes, yes, you got it. Peyton could go that way and I could go my own way. See you, sister! Until the next fight that is.....
     

Men Are Allowed to Hit Back

Lately, I've been involved in a myriad of conversations surrounding the topic of domestic violence. And due to recent highlights in the media, the opinions of people weighing in on the subject of a man putting his hands on a woman can be heard everywhere. I am surprised to say that in the year 2014, many people agree with Whoopi Goldberg's sentiment that a female who agitates a man enough is deserving of  physical reprisal from him. What really shocks me is that I hear this thought fall out of the mouths of mothers. Mothers of sons as well as daughters. Let's explore this. We can all agree that men and women are built differently. Men are inherently stronger than women. Traditionally for providing and protecting his family. I mean, I'm just throwing that out there. Women are more emotional and sensitive by nature. The very nature necessary to raise defenseless infants into independent adults that will contribute to society. The very nature needed to rear a boy into a strong man that provides and protects. And let me say here and now that I believe that neither party should be get a pass to hit the other. Man or woman. Period. I also believe that a huge part of being a man is choosing his mate wisely. Now that goes both ways however it seems I live in a society that hardly ever condemns a man for basing his choice for a partner solely on aesthetics. There are many times where it is clear that a female is violent yet a man continues to pursue her because she offers easy access to sexual stimulation and or because he finds her physically attractive. It's shallow. And guess what? You pay for irresponsible decisions the same way you reap rewards for wise one. I can't tell you how many times I've been told by a man that they knew their significant other was "crazy" before they were involved in a relationship and they still pursued them. They choose to stay and produce children in these dysfunctional relationships. Some find it humorous. Cute even. So they ignore the signs until a spark turns into an explosion. The violent tantrums that were once "cute" are no longer. Even now after they've ignored the obvious signs that the two were clearly incompatible, they still have a chance to save face and walk away. But they don't take that last opportunity. They get undignified and find a reason to hit her for being herself.  Hilariously, this "bad bitch" generation that prizes women with violent attitudes actually points a finger at . . . you guessed it. The female. Makes perfect sense. Condemn the very behavior you encourage. People pass judgement based on what little they know and encourage the excuses these men pathetically exclaim. "She hit me first!" Sometimes the same men who would not tolerate any excuse for such violent exhibitions towards their own mother or daughter. But this woman who you chose voluntarily is somehow different because you put your dick inside of her. Hmmm. Perhaps as a society, we should be telling our sons and daughters to choose their company wisely. Teaching them what to look out for and how to diffuse a potentially violent situation instead of telling them that they are allowed to hit someone if the situation gets to extreme. A match doesn't light up on it's own. Whoopi saying her belief is justified because she doesn't hit anyone does nothing to protect our sons and daughters in the future. We are human. Tempers flare and self control is lost at times. If I were to ever go to my mother or son with a black eye gifted to me by my significant other and they asked me if I hit him first; I would die a thousand deaths (yes, I am that dramatic).. But seriously, it is best to advise someone on how to avoid placing themselves in situations in which conflict is likely to occur then to place blame on an isolated event or person. I don't know. Maybe it's just me. People say I'm a dreamer.

Hard to Defend (Poem)

As a black woman
I know what you have to offer
The path you took to get here
What the cost was
Your biggest fear
is that they don't treat you like the others
But your melanin is not all that appears
when you walk up
You know what this is talk of
Black men, you are bold and beautiful
But so many of you are thoughtless
You say, it's the image that's portrayed of you
But I have witnessed many times
You perpetuate that point of view
Disrespecting women, committing crimes
Failure to thrive in school
The statistics tell no lies
Good black men are few
Or maybe just hard to find
You see it's easy to get confused
So easy to misconstrue
No one gets a pass to judge
But then that must extend to you
My brothers, you don't get a pass for being broken men
To behave like an outlaw
thinking "good hearts" makes you exempt
Or to assume the few good should bear the weight of your sins
To mistreat your community, yourself and your women
Then lash out in a fit of rage when they fear you in that skin
It is not really your color, it is what you represent
Because even the good guys refuse to condemn
They fail to uplift these brothers whom they call friend
So when them boys shoot you down it's hard for me to defend
Wrong is wrong and right is right
But I can't even pretend
When it comes to fight or flight
Certain factors mix in
We are our own biggest problem
Not armed uniformed men

The Ledge (Poem)

If it ever were to be like the weather
It would be like hail and snow
That bitterness is to me so tethered
I welcome in the cold
The thought doesn't exist that things could be better
Despair has moved into my soul
But somewhere from the heavens
Your voice cuts like a weapon
And my spirit, it just knows
You talk me down off that ledge
You talk me down off that ledge
Heart heavy as lead
Passionate but distressed
Baby you talk me down off that ledge
That thing in my chest
Fights demons in my head
But ultimately, you talk me down off that ledge
I found comfort up there
As wind assaulted my hair
Arms extended out in the air
Felt I could no longer do this
But your love, so deep for me, chooses
To take some of my pain and help bear
Amid this sea of ruins
You still find some beauty
And love like that is so fierce and so rare
That I back away smoothly
Increasing in vigor with every drop of a tear
Tears of joy for your bravery
For emancipating me
For the old skin I've managed to shed
Tears of joy for a reason
Finally a reason
to back up and walk of that ledge

Not Enough (Poem)

I don't love you enough
You love me with all you have
Forgive my faults; accept my past
If I'm in need you give your last
Lord know I'll never hesitate to ask
I know it is mine if it's in your grasp
Yet my tongue still delivers un to you such sass
because....
I just don't love you enough
Amazingly you still come for me
Mend all my wounds and stop the bleed

I say I'll try to make you see
That I'm worth the tears and worth the grief

And despite my actions you still believe
Even as I disappoint & I deceive
You trust in love as I trust in you being weak
So here you go caged bird, go ahead and be free
I. Do. Not. Love. You. Enough.
I am not a rare jewel
I am not good and bad fused
I am not in need of saving, I am abuse
The things I ask of you
Predicaments we go through
Love would never, ever ask that of you
Love is kind
And what I have is cruel
Do yourself a favor and let me go
Allow you to love you
I hear the words flow
As you grant me excuse after excuse
Daring to hope
That I'm just confused
I know.....
Read my lips: I know exactly what it is that I do
Find strength to get up
Sever yourself from us
Thank you for being so tough
But really, I just don't love you enough
Free yourself
Free yourself
Free yourself

Master Cleanse (my experience)

The Master Cleanse is quite popular. Also known as the "lemonade or Beyonce diet". I've been in search of an affordable detoxification process for quite some time. And as you can observe in the recipe listed below, this was right up my alley. You're supposed to "ease in" with our diet however as a pescatarian, my diet is decent enough. I dove right in.  I won't bore you with the specifics. It's easy to make and there are recipes all over the internet.

Main Ingredients for the Master Cleanse Recipe

• Pure Filtered Water
• Grade B Organic Maple Syrup, Formaldehyde free
• Organic Cayenne Pepper
• Organic Lemons
• Sea salt - Unrefined, (Not iodized) or Epsom Salt 

Optional Ingredients:

• Laxative tea
• Natural Herbal Tea (decaffeinated)

Day 1
The night before I drank a cup of herbal detox tea. In the morning I had my first sea salt flush and it took some time to ahem ..."flush" everything out. Afterwards I felt terrible. Headaches and stomach pain. I found strength to make a pitcher of the lemonade. 

A full day's serving:
60 oz. daily serving):
60 ounces of filtered water
12 Tablespoons of organic grade B maple syrup
12 Tablespoons of organic lemon juice
1/2 Teaspoon cayenne pepper powder

The upside was that I wasn't hungry. I did have moments where I would feel very unwell which I'm told is normal since your body is releasing toxins that will eventually be flushed out. Having the detox tea at night ended the entire ordeal on a tranquil note.

Day 2

The sea salt flush is a m***********! It cleans everything out....lol. "Mommy, bathroom again?" my son would exclaim. I can laugh at it now. Afterwards I was looking forward to the lemonade. I didn't even need to consume the daily amount. I had guest come over for the week and temptation eased it's way in however I was good. Tea time was gratifying as I noticed that I actually enjoyed my tea without any additional sweeteners. My taste buds were already reset. 

  Day 3

I broke down. My guest bought Haitian bread with them from New York City and I couldn't help but to have a tiny piece. I then decided to end my cleanse however T.N convinced me to do otherwise. Shocker, I know. He shocked me right back into the cleanse. No hunger. Just greed.

  Day 4

T.N out of habit asked me if I wanted McDonald's french fries while we were driving. My death glare quickly reminded him of my new found commitment. I wan's hungry however I did feel weak as I heard him order food for he and the children. I don't even like McDonald food that much. You just miss food. Like a lot! 

Day 5

I felt wonderful. Like I would never need food again. I must say it felt good to have one less thing on my mind. Meditation was easier. I took a break from working out and went to the sauna instead. Sweat never felt so delightful. So renewing. Still, I had family over and they were terrible temptations to the dark side. Also the children have been leaving food behind in their plates for a couple days and since I was the only one that would eat it, those scraps had to be thrown away. Having witnessed true poverty in a 3rd world country let me say that it burns my soul to watch food go to waste. Besides I was feeling so great, I wanted some Haitian bread dammit. So I gave in. And the simplest things were delectable. I will definitely do this again in the future.  

The cleanse was also spiritual for me. With all that meditation and discipline, it just came natural. I been over meat however seafood was something else. At the end of this cleanse I had no desires for animal flesh. I found the strength to become a vegetarian....full-time. Yay. *smile* 

Key Points 

• I only lasted 5 days (It should be done for 10 days minimum & 40 days maximum)
• I made a big batch every morning simply because it suited my lifestyle better 
• I only lost 4 pounds (literally a pound a day...looking over reviews made me feel like I would have lost more)
• It wasn't so bad. The lemonade actually tastes refreshing to me although there were reviews that stated otherwise. 

To All Of My "Good" Men

"I'm a good man, Storm. Most men out here don't do half of what I do. Isn't that good enough?! Shouldn't that satisfy you?" 

In honor of another one of my infamous fights on the battlefield of love with T.N, I have decided to pen out a public letter. I mean, why not? Lol

Dear Good Men,
No . . . just no. For some woman, a good man is not enough. Here me out now. There are woman in this world who have truly worked on themselves. Their parents may have invested much love and finances to help the process along however for the most part they have worked on themselves. And by work I mean they took the time out to get to know themselves. Strengths and weaknesses. They have transformed their passions into sound financial investments for their future. They consider their future soul mates when calculating the pros and cons of significant lifetime decision. They have educated themselves so as to be an asset to whomever and or whatever they choose to contribute their time to. Sometimes even fanatical measures are taken in the name of aesthetic pleasure for the one who will eventually prove to be our lifetime partner (braces, excessive fitness regimen, hell even ass shots). All of this because we have developed a sense of self love that extends out to anyone we choose to love as well. In marriage the two do become one. If you find yourself blessed enough to be engaged in a mature relationship with a female like the one I have described to you, understand this, you are already good enough. But if you love the Queen that you're attracted to then you need to be a King to hold her attraction. And having royal moments do not equate to you being a King. Lately, the epidemic of less than substantial men roaming around and populating the earth has grown out of control. So good men believe that they should be more than enough by comparison. And they are for women who have not yet elevated themselves to a royal status. But no successful kingdom ever remains idle. It is always in a state of evolution; forward progression preferably. A Queen should not be nagging you either. If she comes home and drops $400 on the table, your mind should already be formulating ideas on how to double that currency. Not expressing gratitude at both of you having $200. Good enough is not the legacy you aim to leave for your children. So that's a definite no, a good man is not enough for me. Not for a Queen. Well, let me speak for myself: I know who I am and what I bring to the table. When you are my man, it is my duty to demand more of you.  I need you to be great. I need you to be exceptional. I need you to be what I am to you and more. Much more. And I need not to ask. You should know that as your soul mate, I see greatness in you even when you may not see it yourself.  I love you and aspire to be with you because I know what you are capable of. You aren't lucky to be with me. Luck has nothing to do with it. There is something in you that speaks to me on a level you may have yet to comprehend. Trust me. A woman's intuition is phenomenal. We aren't asking more of you to soothe our covetous desires. We just believe in you that much. Be grateful. Good man should only be a temporary status. And if that isn't an idea you agree with then your relationship such a woman will always be riddled with problems. As a matter of fact, do yourself a favor and discontinue any relationship with a woman who's demand for a better you is overwhelming you to the point of unhappiness. It isn't fair to you both as she will always be relentless in her search for a lifetime of elevation. Her ambition could consume a sea of "I love you's"and never even begin to quench it's thirst. You two just aren't compatible. And that is okay. Life can be funny that way. Be "good" at letting it go. When you make the assertion for her to be satisfied with "good", you are telling her to settle. And that's unacceptable. Don't be that guy. 
                                   With Love, 
                                               A Great Woman

Separation Anxiety

I work hard. Really hard. The welfare of children is my highest priority so finding that work/home balance is difficult. My blessings come in abundance however my children having their father play an active role in their life is one a major one. My girls love me when I'm there and then pour all that loving on their father when I'm not. My son is a little older (4 precious years). His level of comprehension doesn't forgive my absence so easily. I try my best to explain how much his comfort depends on these "absences" however the maturation needed for this type of logic is something he has yet to possess. So I do a couple things to ease the separation anxiety. Three things to be exact.

1. Stimulation
2. Personal Time
3. Buy them

Stimulation: First things first, I see to it that the children have little time to miss me. Our home pays homage to the ingeniousness that the children tend to display. Play kitchens and train sets for imaginative play. A water table...well just because my Aquarians love water. *smile* Building blocks to promote motor/spatial skills. An easel to encourage creativity and free thinking. Sport accessories for their athletic genes to thrive (I hope...lol...I suck at sports). Hot wheels and dolls are thrown in for fun. Hardcover books that they can pick up and read themselves (either classics or written by African American authors). Etc, etc, etc. When all is said and done their father can set up a movie for them to watch. Mainstream television isn't my thing so thank God for Netflix and DVD's. They're engaged from the time that they first arrive home up until bedtime. 
Personal Time: Now this is of utmost significance. The girls are twins however they have the most disparate personalities. Baby A is energetic like her brother; she loves to play. Our solo time consists of lots of imaginative play, me teaching her how to play new games and singing. Baby B is a quiet soul who is more to herself than anything. When we're not cuddling we are reading together. Sometimes she just flips pages to her own book while I read mine. And L.P *sigh* I'm not sure if it's the age of the sex however he requires a lot! We hike, dine at local restaurants, park hop, free play at Rec centers, grocery shop together, trips to the pool, trips to the library, race, feed Kingston (out cat), play in the rain, and so many other things. There are times where he pulls me away from the family to play with the trains in his room by ourselves. Whenever those three have to go without "solo" time, they literally fight for my attention and time. They miss me more when I'm away because they haven't had "enough" of me. So I definitely do what I have to to give each of them their time. 
Buy Them: There is no shame in my game. Sometimes my son isn't having it. His eyes swell up with tears and he finds every use of his limited vocabulary to let me know how much I can't leave (this includes jumping in front of the door and blocking me). Most people consider this a tantrum however I it charming. He's upset that I'm leaving and this is how he's expressing it. Cool. I get that silly Mommy guilt though. We both feel terrible. So if I see that it's going to be one of those days, I plan in advance to take a trip to a local store with him. I get him a little toy (usually something that compliments what he already has) and by the time I have to say the evil words good bye; he's good. Seriously, he's like "Okay, Mommy bye!" as he rips open the package to his new toy. I drift away slowly. Everyone's happy. 

*Here's an extra one for ya. If I ever have to leave before I get to see them come home I leave little love notes or a toy or a book in their room. Just a little something to say I know you miss me but I already miss you first. Their father tells me that they get so excited when they find it (warms my heart!).       

And to be real, I hear complaints about $$$ all of the time from other parents. I buy mine a water table and they call me rich as they order a second pair of Jordan's for their (child)ren. I won't get into priorities right now (kids having name brands but no room to call their own, luxury vehicles but no home, kids with tablets yet virtually illiterate, you know what I mean). No one has left an inheritance for me yet so trust me when I say I know all about hard times. Old movies and toys can be purchased from a thrift store (I love thrift stores!). Racing in a backyard is free.  Parks are free. Walks are free. Those books in the picture were in the dollar section at Target. Books for a dollar! And my personal favorite; love notes are free 99 baby.  

Staccato Pulses (Poem)

I think about you so often
It exhausts me
What is this sorcery?
That makes me put you before me
It's haunting
The way my heart beats when you're talking
Staccato pulses
The rhythm breaks as love pours in
I am yours then
And there is no greater fortune
Serenity, joy, protection.....I am your fortress
So won't you walk in
And enjoy the view
Get to know what it means when I say I love you
Get lost in me, get lost in the truth
Explore my ugly, enjoy my beautiful
Hold and hug me
Ecstasy in intervals
Things won't be perfect
But I'll perfect my point of view
And know for certain
This here holds no greater roots
You are that person
The one I trust
The one I choose
So be that person
The one I love
Perpetual muse

Mother

She came into this country from Haiti. An underprivileged young black woman with her eyes set on the typical American dream despite the French on her tongue and a husband who had opposing plans. An introduction to a story shared by millions of my people. But unlike millions she dared to seek better conditions for herself. She had a daughter (my sister...whoop whoop!), little income and no where to go when she met my father who would change all of that. This new relationship was in it's infancy stage and she had no more room for mistakes so with a heavy heart she sent her only child off to Haiti to be cared for by her parents while she got her life together. This time she would be sure that the leading man in her life had her best interest at heart. And thank heavens he did (go, Daddy!). He was a tenacious man who defied his sexist culture and encouraged my mother to become an independent woman. She loved that about him so much that she overcame her fears about a second marriage and bore him a child (meeeeee) shortly after their nuptials. Life was grand. Grand enough for her to make the arrangements to bring not only her first child but also my father's child from Haiti. Finally we stood on a united front as a family. But the sun only shines for so long in our world. My father fell ill and all she could do was care for him as best she knew how as we watched him slip away from us. I say "we" loosely as I am the only child who's mind carries no such existence of these moments. As a mother she could only mourn so much. Three young children stood before her in need of care and monetary support she knew not where to find. My step-sister was the oldest at about 16 years of age and her rebellious ways took it's toll on our unit. She was a very troubled soul who let anger about the unfortunate route her life took fester into hatred for our dad. And now that he wasn't there and her birth mother was miles away; she turned that resentment against my mother (yes, my Mother wasn't going through enough apparently). It wasn't long before she moved out to move in with my paternal family (she wasn't old enough to be on her own). We lost touch forever. We tried to rekindle our relationship as adults however her hatred for my parents made it extremely difficult for us to even carry on a conversation let alone a bond between sisters. Well, anyway my mom sent my sister & I to live with my Aunt so that she could again try to establish a better life for her children. And she did. To this day, I have no idea how my mother kept a roof over our heads. We came back home and never wanted for food in our stomach  (well most days) or clothing on our back. She took in other people's children when we were barely making it ourselves. She took in other people period. The same Aunt that took us in; she turned around and took her family in when they needed the help. Living in a home with so many women made everyday an adventure. To this day I feel a sense of nostalgia whenever I visit a multi-generational home. I think back in amazement when I think of how much my mother was there for me given her circumstances. And her faith in God was nothing short of amazing. Bitterness would eat at me whenever our unfortunate circumstances would overwhelm me. However, my mother would remind me of all of the things I did have. Family prayer at night, church every Sunday and random prayer vigils when the going got real rough. Church made me sick....lol. When I refused to go to college, she marched my behind up to the financial aid office and stayed there until I made arrangements to receive instruction that fall. She was fierce in her beliefs and dreams for her children.

And here we are. My sister and I hold college degrees and respectable employment. We are mothers in our own right to our own fantastic children. We both own a car (or 2) and hold her high on a pedestal. Classy women with men in our lives that adore us (they adore her too....lol). And when I thought she might be getting tired of all this mothering she turns around and becomes an exceptional grandmother too. Yes, she did that. Now my well of gratitude is filling up as the table of life turns. When one becomes even more of an adult and can truly value the sacrifices that their parents have made in their honor. Wow. My mom is awesome. I didn't have a father. I was the recipient of a New York City public school system that fails the youth daily. My neighborhood left much to be desired. I had a million reasons to be less than I am now. My mother was such a powerful is driving force at times I call her randomly just to ask her how she did it. To which she laughs of course.  

Despite our disagreements my need for her are as intense as my first moments in the womb. She is still a lifeline. 
And I'm in my late 20s. I love that woman. She'll always be my baby. 



Started from the bottom!

Fathers Day Weekend

My father's day weekend was hectic. My troop traveled to my hometown in New York City to join our family in celebration of the Baptismal of my twin daughters and niece. We partied as only Caribbeans can (lots of love, food, wine, and people) Saturday night. Sunday morning we shook off the fatigue as the sight of the Deacon blessing 3 beautiful girls into the Catholic faith sobered us. There was even a miracle. My son had only brief moments of misbehaving. Boy, was I shocked. I was anticipating a series of meltdowns at the least. This was the first time he has ever been this well behaved during a mass ceremony. It took awhile however I have come to the conclusion that it could only be one thing other than forces from up above. The men in attendance were dressed sharply and expressed impeccable manners throughout the ceremony (other than a few who nodded off here and there....yeah your secret is safe with me). *smile* No, really though my son adores the men in my family. He was inspired to behave like them because he recognizes the greatness in each one of them and aspires to be like them. After the ceremony we started up the grill back at the house. My son was excited to be among this throng of god-fathers, uncles, grandfathers, etc. I know these men and love each one in my own way. They also all possess qualities that one would find undesirable. And for the most part I know of at least one woman that  has been a recipient of  some of their ungodly behavior. I say all this to state the point that they are flawed yet they are still men. I'm a proud feminist. Being the offspring of a single mother, I can say that woman have an enormous well of strength in them. Some of us can do it all. However and this a big however doing it all is not ideal. Children need their fathers. Boys, especially need an army of men to exemplify and teach how to truly be men. At one point I deemed certain masculine characteristics innate however life experiences have led me to believe that manhood has to be taught. And there are things that only a man can teach. To the women who have been hurt and hold bitterness in their heart, I implore you to find forgiveness for the sake of your children. He may not have held up to your expectations. Lied. Cheated. Refuses to pay child support. Etc. If he decides to be in your child(ren)'s life and he doesn't pose a threat to their safety of course.....let him be a father. And trust I've had my share of disappointments with the opposite sex. This includes the father of my own children (don't get me started....lol). But those disappointments are my own; not my children's. My son holds his father in high esteem because their relationship is their own. My daughters believe that their father is King, not because of the rent that gets paid or the groceries that are bought but because of the love that he gives to them. Simple as that. Let your child(ren) form their own opinions. I cannot begin to list the multitudinous amount of men who have been invaluable assets to my mother, my sister and myself despite being labeled terrible fathers by the families who they've actually donated genetic material to. The same goes for my son. I've heard people speak ill of men who have patiently taught him a game or read him a book. All he knows of them is love. Love is love. Whether from a drunkard or a world leader. Sometimes the best thing that you can do  for your child is to allow them their father's presence. Your relationship with him does not determine the relationship with his children. Last time I checked abortion in this country is still legal. So is adoption. So whether you care to hear it or not you decided to partake in this journey of parenthood with this person. Let your child(ren) have the good that their father can give. However diminutive it may be. If someone gives you a dollar, is it not still money that they gave you? Is money not still a good thing? Same goes for love. Be it a little or a lot. Let them have it. And for the deadbeats it is never too late.  Let go and let God. Happy Father's Day to all.     

 

Bucket List

My friend asked me to come up with 10 things and as much as I write I have never written a bucket list. So here goes:

1. Meet Eric Jerome Dickey Dick Gregory 
2. Master a firearm 
3. Loc my hair 
4. Adopt a child (preferably from my parent's native country or the Caribbean in general)
5. Learn how to swim
6. Live outside of the Unites States for awhile (or take a 3 to 6 month vacation)
7. Throw a bon fire party on a beach
8. Build my own library and reading nook
9. Become a vegetarian
10. A Couples Boudoir photo shoot  

His First Written Word

My son is not much of a talker. At 4 years old he doesn't care to express himself verbally as much as other children his age. As someone who encourages the freedom of expression across many platforms, this concerned me for a minute or two. He speaks however seems more comfortable using his "baby talk" language when he's in an expressive mood. His pediatrician quickly put all negative notions to bed by asking a few questions.
Dr. Amazing: "Is he able to express to you what he needs?"
Me: "Yes"
Dr. Amazing: "Do you or his father have trouble understanding him?"
Me: "No"
Dr. Amazing: "Is he having any trouble learning?"
Me:"I mean no but....." 
DR. Amazing: "Leave him alone. Every child has their own developmental time table"
And that was that. LP knows the alphabet (backward & forward), numbers, shapes, etc. He paints lovely pictures on his easel and when he isn't being territorial he is a wonderful brother to his younger sisters. Writing seemed to be a bit of a hurdle for him and so for the longest time I zeroed in on teaching him to write his name. There were many sighs of frustration as unused crayons rolled off of the table. My thoughts slowly edged toward the question of whether this was the "difficulty learning" part that the pediatrician mentioned. We were making so much progress. Maybe I'm not such a great teacher. Maybe, maybe, maybe *channeling my inner Jan Brady* So I prayed on it. And I guess the heavens saw fit to send me an answer. During one uneventful "session" while we were working on the letter P, LP looked me in the eye and said "No, Mommy" ever so sternly. I must admit that my reply was in a fit of exasperation. "Okay, what can you write then?....Sheeesh". And that's when he did it. He answered me with a simple "L, Mommy" as he scribbled it down. Just like that. Here I was pushing the issue for him to write what I wanted him to instead of asking him what it was that he could do. No wonder we were at a standstill. So I asked him if he knew how to write any other letters and the floodgates opened. The subsequent letters were O, V, and E. So thrilled was I at the breakthrough that I ended our little session with a homemade Popsicle and a short hike on a local trail. Well anyway, the next day I looked over our scrap paper and noticed that LP had written the word LOVE. This humored me to no end. He is the recipient of so much love that the very letters are subconsciously swimming around in his head. Well, that's my theory anyway. So my sentimental aka corny aka super cheesy personality had the ultimate desire to memorialize this picture. I was going to frame it. Then I entertained the idea of a tattoo. But then I stumbled upon this adorable website; kidzcandesign.com. They basically turn your child's artwork into jewelry. The customer service was excellent and I am completely satisfied with my order. Now I have it forever. 





kidzcandesign.com

End of Blog Challenge.....Yaaaaaayy

Day 30 – A photograph of yourself today + three good things that have happened in the past 30 days.

1. I wrote more than usual 
2. Therefore I smiled more than usual 
3. And of course this made me feel more than beautiful

I'm a simple woman really.

Something Storm could never be tired of

Day 29 – Something you could never get tired of doing.

Why, writing and reading of course. My Kindle and journal are my best friends. My heart palpitates at the sight of a library. A stack of books turns me on in the worst way. There are times when I actually have a moment of silence for all of the books and stories I won't get to read in this lifetime. Authors of my favorite books light a fire in me. I just want to dissect their minds and pick apart every personality piece of theirs that I can recognize from their story. As a child I was often scolded for spending hours lost inside of a book. Thank God for my high IQ. It was a habit of mine to rush through any classwork assigned and discreetly read a book that laid hidden in my backpack or underneath my desk. Sometimes I would look up to a teacher blinking back at me in awe of how I failed to hear her call my name several times. She would walk over to my desk and I would slide my worksheet empty of answers on top of the haiku I was so busy working on. Summer break was always an invigorating time for me. Freedom to read whatever I wanted all day long....literally. As an adult, I understood that life can get in the way of treasured hobbies. I thought that this  love would die down a tad. But alas, what a foolish thought. I have heard music beautiful enough to bring tears to my eyes. I have witnessed snow falls that take my breath away. My children are the most amazing spirits I have ever had the pleasure of spending time with. I have fallen in love and have been the recipient of phenomenal cunnilingus. And I say all of this to say my love for reading and writing hasn't changed one bit. Out of all of those experiences nothing compares to the tranquility and joy I feel when I am lost in a good book or story of my own creation. Trust me when I say I could never get tired or either.

Favorite Movie

Day 28 – Your favorite movie.



V for Vendetta
This movie is one that I can never grow tired of. Everything about it is orchestrated so well. I have a thing about revolutionary stories. Maybe it's the story of my own people rising up against a corrupted government that always seem to strike a cord with me. Whatever it is, I cannot get enough. Creating a young shy and forgettable female into a heroine worthy of becoming V's protege is pure genius. My inner feminist held fast to the plot and wouldn't let go. And V. So articulate and fearless. I fell in love with everything about him. I mean it's terrible enough that I have it bad for wounded souls but did you see his library? He's into art and skilled in martial arts. He serves raw honesty to every question Evey delivers unto him and yet still manages to remain a mystery. The love between the two is portrayed so magnificently there isn't a sex scene that would do it justice. I'm so glad they didn't cheapen the movie with one. Last but not least Bae and I can watch and actually enjoy this together. There is something for everyone. 
Oooooh and plus the quotes are soooo dramatic. Just awesome. 

V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.

V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation; I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

V: “Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. ”

V: I told you, only truth. For 20 years, I sought only this day. Nothing else existed... until I saw you. Then everything changed. I fell in love with you Evey. And to think I no longer believed I could.

V: Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy. And ideas are bulletproof.

Evey Hammond: He was Edmond Dantés... and he was my father. And my mother... my brother... my friend. He was you... and me. He was all of us.

V: It is to Madame Justice that I dedicate this concerto, in honor of the holiday that she seems to have taken from these parts, and in recognition of the impostor that stands in her stead. Tell me Evey, do you know what day it is?

Valerie: It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place, but for three years I had roses and apologized to no one. I shall die here. Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch, but one. An inch. It is small and it is fragile and it is the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must NEVER let them take it from us. I hope that whoever you are, you escape this place. I hope that the worlds turns, and that things get better. But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you, I love you. With all my heart, I love you. Valerie.

V: [V stops her] Evey, please. There is a face beneath this mask but it's not me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it or the bones beneath them.

V: “Artists use lies to tell the truth. Yes, I created a lie. But because you believed it, you found something true about yourself.”

V: “Happiness is the most insidious prison of all.

Then & Now

Day 27 – A picture of you last year and now and how have you changed since then?

February 16, 2013 

May 25, 2014

 Oh what a difference a year can make....lol. Last year I gave birth and it may not be apparent however a lot of weight was shed (still a ways to go on weight loss journey). I'm just ecstatic to be commander in chief of my body again. I've returned to my pescatarian diet (yeah the girls weren't having it when they were in the belly). If you have ever been on any kind of bed rest then you can imagine how liberating it can be to do your own laundry or take a long shower. Working out is a pleasure. I'm an aunt now. To such a precious little girl too (thanks G!). All in all, I'm happier....sexier...healthier...richer...etc. More ambitious and inspired than ever before if that is even possible. Yes laaaaaaaaawwwd *Drake voice*, back to normal. Thank God. Let the hu$tle continue.

P.S I recommend having multiples to no one! That is all.

F.Y.I That's baby B in the pictures. And yes, I know she is adorable. Thank you. *smile*

Haiti

Day 26 – A photo of somewhere you have been to.



The birth place of my parents, their parents and the ancestors that came before them. One of the most appreciated gifts my mother saw fit to pass on to her children is the connection to our culture. From the resilience of our people to the artwork to the oh so talented skill of story telling. My sister and I find Haitian people amazing. I have been blessed enough to visit 4 or 5 times as a child and the memories live with me to this day. Despite the popularity of  displaying poverty stricken images in the media, I am witness to the beautiful country side, cities & beaches that exist as well. Haiti is no stranger to hard times however the 2010 earthquake has left the country more impoverished than ever. Crime is at an all time high.  I pray that in the future the country stabilizes enough for me to feel comfortable bringing my own children to visit. It's such a cool place to be.  I miss it. 

In my purse

Day 25 – What’s in your purse?

It varies from season to season but here goes.....

• My Journal
• Lipstick
• My Kindle
• Unfinished poems written on scrap paper
• Pens
• Cell Phone/Kindle/Ipod charger
• Back up cell phone battery
• My Ipod
• Grocery/To do Lists

Favorite Tattoo

Day 24 – A photo of something that means a lot to you.

Please excuse the dejected expression. I was actually in a pleasant mood when this photo was captured....Lol. This picture was taken right after I received the ink work. When she was alive my best friend and I planned to get each others names tatted on modest areas of our bodies for thee longest time. We were overly sentimental like that. Tan was adamant about living life on her terms and enjoying it to the fullest. At the time I was working overtime to put myself through college and assist my mother in whatever financial shortage she was going through. I couldn't comprehend the urgency in which she lived her life. "We will get them" I would reply in acute exasperation. It was one of many plans I would postpone. I delayed  these "Carpe Diem" tendencies because I was concentrated on working towards an abstract future. One in which I could establish a lucrative career and then travel the world in search of adventure with her. My childhood experiences with financial struggle demanded that I lay the foundation for a secure future first. We didn't share similar socioeconomic backgrounds so I didn't think she understood my point of view. After she passed I tried to remain focused on my goals. I foolishly believed that I could postpone the grieving process as well. Well anyway the tattoo was the first step I took in "not waiting" for this abstract future of mine and just living in the moment.  I thought of how badly we wanted these tattoos. How much it meant to her. Kicked myself a little for not doing it when she was here. For not acknowledging the wisdom in her wild ways. So I went and got her name on my wrist on a whim. And although it's my smallest one it is my favorite tattoo. It means a lot to me. To this day it serves to remind me of her and one of the many life lessons that her death has taught me. Enjoy life everyday. Don't save it all for that "one day" dream. Such a simple message yet I missed it back then. I now serve to honor that motto every chance I get.