Category: Change

Hello, God. How Are You?

trE

Remember me?

WordPress AI-Generated image of an African-American couple in deep thought, anguish, and regret.

I know you do. I ask
Not for a response, but
Rhetorically.
I received news that has
Broken me–torn my heart
Into thousands of pieces, so
I’m coming to you.

I always come to you–in
Sickness, health, during times
Of Sadness, and of joy.
This time, though . . . this
Time is different.

A feeling of worthlessness
Washes over me. I have
Been abandoned, neglected,
Rejected, and looked over for
Second bests and thriving
Environments are rising over
These selections.

Am I not worthy of coupleship?
Am I not worthy of a legacy?

Oh, God, the dog sleeps and
The tortoise has buried itself
Under its bedding in its cave.
They do not hear my cries.
The dog is deaf and the tortoise
Could care less, so I come
To you.

Four months later, he tells
Me of a baby girl he hasn’t been
Able to share . . . hasn’t been
Able to whisper to me of her
Name. Who we were stopped him.
We didn’t want marriage. We
Didn’t want children, but we
Loved them.
He married. He now has a child,
And four months later, he speaks.

About her . . . about the beauty
Behind her eyes.
My phone floods with pictures
Of this sweet and precious soul,
And I see him in her, his mother,
And his father, and then he says,
“We need to talk, but I’ll have
To find time to do so freely,
I didn’t want to
Tell you like this.”

And I break down.
Not from sadness about the
News. Not because I am
Not “The One.” But because he
Felt like he couldn’t tell me.
But because he felt like our
History–our trauma from our
Upbringings would crush his
Words.

How do you tell the
One you didn’t marry, you didn’t
Have children with because you
Both were afraid that you now
Have crossed off the second
Thing y’all never wanted to do?

I put on his shoes.
I take a walk in them.
I try to understand.
I take long, deep breaths, and
Then, I cry.

God, we are where we are
Because of the decisions
WE made. We ran. We felt
Like we would mess up
Just as our parents did.
We didn’t want to fuck up
Children–break the cycle,
Shift the curse . . .

Fear will make you miss out
On life. And it did. With us.
Keep him safe. His wife, too.
And now, his baby girl.
Please, God. I know you will.
I know you can.

And the pain I feel now
Will not be with me next year.
I will be free. I will accept
What is and what will be.
I know that my life as it is
Now will not be what it is
In the future.

Whatever you do, God,
While you’re remembering my
Prayers for him and his family,

Please remember me.

“Write Your Own Story”

trE

Lune, 3 Parts

Someone placed a label with the phrase, “Write Your Own Story” on one of our elevator doors, tucked neatly in the corner. Had I not been paying attention, I would have missed this message. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

write your own story
the message
could save my scared soul

change is a constant
that’s a truth
no one can deny

I’m ready to move
ahead now
time waits for no man

The Disrespectful Acts of a Ghost

trE
Photo by Nothing Ahead on Pexels.com

There is no easy way to share this information, so I will just spill it. Spirits are attracted to me. I am not weirded out by it nor does it frighten me.

It’s intriguing.

This past Wednesday afternoon, while making calls for work, my coffeemaker turned on and attempted to percolate. However, there was no water or coffee in the machine. I had to quickly finish my call, run to my kitchen, and turn the darn thing off. I even unplugged it for good measure.

Fast-forward to this past Sunday–my dishwasher turned on and began a washing cycle. Um . . . I don’t use the dishwasher. I never have. I am old-school, I wash dishes in the kitchen sink.

Now, me being the logical person I am, yet innately aware of spiritual manifestations, I have no qualms with this ghost/spirit. But if it plans to continue to stick around and activate appliances, I need it to start pitching in on the bills. No one is allowed a free ride. Even my pets, Jernee & Zumi, supply me with love, kisses, and attention. They have become accustomed to this way of life without paying me monetarily.

Paranormal activity from beings I cannot see are no different. It will not live here rent-free if I’m not benefiting from it in some way.

I mean . . . conjure up some groceries or make a couple monthly bills disappear. Spook the hell out of these streaming services and have them drop their prices. DO SOMETHING other than stir up noise while I’m working or trying to relax. Times are far too hard to have electricity going to waste like this! I do not think I’ve ever had this level of disrespect from a spirit.

When I was in my late twenties, I stayed with a then-lover and her family, and in the room I called home for three days, the TV came on and went off during the night by itself–every night. I asked her family if it was on some sort of built-in timer and both she and them confirmed it was not. I chalked it up to my late, maternal grandmother trying to connect with me on some level and left it at that.

A simple act, right? No harm, no foul. No interruptions that I couldn’t get through and maintain a sense of normalcy.

This particular ghost/spirit, though, is already shaping up to be something of a force to be reckoned with. The disrespect! The total lack of care! The utter unwillingness to think about my pockets and my bank account!

I have resorted to keeping my ears to the ground. If another occurrence takes place, I am sure it will be some sort of sign.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s trying to tell me something.

the first session

trE

I am small, tucked into myself,
fidgety, and nervous.
He is an older, White man
from Jersey with an earring
in his ear.
He asks me about elementary
school, my father, my mother,
and my strengths.

I talk with my hands.
I am animated. I am crafting
explanations and recollections
of past lives, and he types
vigorously on the keys of
his laptop.
It’s small. It’s black. It
shakes on his lap.

I wonder what the screen says.
If I’m being cut down to size.
If I’m being analyzed on a
scale outside my comprehension.
If I’m being mentally processed
for some sort of unspoken
reward.

Barely thirty minutes pass,
and I lose myself in a sea of
tears. He’s mentioned grief.
Which means, I have mentioned
Chrissy, and I don’t even
remember my mouth forming
her name. I can feel the
tears sliding down
my cheeks, and I say to myself,
You will get through this.

We have six minutes left, and
he announces a question
that sounds like he wanted to
unleash it at least fifteen minutes ago and I am all
ears: “Do you have the link
to the initial ASD testing you
did?”

Of course, I do.
Of course, I would have it.
Why would I not?
I emailed it to him, and I
watched the results leave
my inbox and disappear to
a black hole of infinite
knowledge and time and
space to get to his inbox.

And then, I wonder . . .
what’s next?

Séduire (Just One More Month!)

trE

The publishing date is October 30, 2024.

Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Action

Séduire is a collection of serial fiction tales
and flash fiction standalone stories written over a period
of three years. I want you to feel something,
and with these stories, you will.

As we near the publishing date for Séduire, what I will tell you about this book is that my heart, soul, and dreams are in it. Characters have been speaking to me since I was nine years old. I have always found it best to heed their conversations and share their stories. I haven’t stopped yet. And as long as there is breath in me, I will continue to weave the words I hear from every character into the stories they want me to share. I am certain they will never stop talking.

Here is one last blurb from a friend of mine and a fellow writer and author about Séduire:

Thank you to those of you who have always supported me. I hope you will do so again when Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction is published on October 30, 2024.

Are you interested in reading my previously published books? You can do so here.

Stay Tuned.

what the body thinks of sexy weather

trE

this morning, the body failed
to jolt up in routine.
I flounced on the bed,
unsure of where I was, and
the aches hit me.

could it be an early Autumn
cold or the flu or the dreaded
COVID-19 finally coming
to test my strength?

sexy weather greeted us earlier
this week and the change
is changing me.
I know this day will be
spent huddling under covers,
sipping licorice tea with raw honey,
and watching movies.

I can’t bring myself to do
much else.

woe to the woman whose
weekend will be spent
nursing herself back to
health because even though
I am ready for the weather to
thunder roll in an inviting way,
the body is not.