like Nas’ “It Ain’t Hard To Tell“, when we spot each other in a room full of our workmates, we fight to get to that hug we’ve been missing–that embrace that saddles us with contentment.
we fight for the purity of touch.
I know you. you know me. we broke down walls to be able to say, “She’s whole without being halved.” we have the drop on one another but we’ll never use it.
I am counting down the days until I see you again. until I get to hear that Flint, Michigan accent with a sprinkle of the Deep South swirling on your tongue.
maybe it’ll be the right time to say, “Yes” to what we’ve had to say “No” to for so long.
or maybe I’m just living through my fantasies again–envisioning you as the key to my heart’s happiness. or maybe, we’re treading lightly because the heavy waves are getting heavier and we need these damn jobs.
we’ve been cautious for years.
and there’s no cat and mouse with us–we’re simply plagued by curiosity and frozen from impending corporate damage.
how long will we be able to hold up our end of the bargain before we have to surrender?
are we willing to battle in the wars of political correctness for the honor of true love?
am I?
*Background music: It Ain’t Hard Tell instrumental, produced by The Large Professor
One of my cousins sent some good words a few days ago via text message. Please drop the details in the comments if anyone knows who coined this affirmation.
I hope this morning and the rest of this day will be more than kind to all of you.
Single Black Female by Tracy Brown. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Last night, I finished reading the second of the three books by Tracy Brown, purchased for my birthday as gifts from my best friend, and I truly like this one so much more than Hold You Down.
Don’t get me wrong, both books are sensational and the author does a great job introducing developed and layered characters to us in each delivery. Still, something about Single Black Female will stick with me for many years to come.
Below is the Amazon review I submitted:
“I Got Emotional So Many Times
And I am not afraid to admit that. “Single Black Female” is the story so many Black women can relate to.
I love how the author, Tracy Brown, depicts each character. We get a full view of each of their personalities, and it’s a believable fictional tale. I found myself connecting with each of the four women: Ivy, Coco, Nikki, & Deja. I feel like there’s a sliver of each of them within me.
Their bond and closeness reminded me of true friendship and sisterhood. I got so emotional during several chapters and at the very end as well.
It is a breath of fresh air reading a happy and positive ending. One that showcases the women having a delightful conversation and enjoying themselves amongst the peace and somewhat quiet of Brooklyn for a “picnic.”
I teared up simply thinking about the women closest to me and about my brothers and my baby sister, and how hard I would war for all of them if I had to–be it against authoritative figures or their friends and loved ones.
The power and authenticity of love and its effectiveness of a genuine friendship know no bounds and can withstand any evil. And Tracy Brown does such an amazing job portraying that with this book.
I highly recommend it!”
If you’re looking to pick up a book that will stir something alive in you and make you remember just how grateful you are for friendship and love amid turmoil, this book will do exactly that.
Our first date was on a cold and blistery winter’s night.
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It was a cold, winter’s night in December of 2005. I had just moved to North Carolina in June. I settled into the new life surrounding me and laid my cares and burdens down to pick up another day.
I ran away from Georgia the first chance I got. I was always running away from something, someone, or somewhere back then. Ran from Georgia to the Bronx. From the Bronx to Long Island. From Long Island back to Georgia, and then . . . the final marathon saw me running from Georgia to North Carolina.
And this is where I have been since 2005. And although I’ve lived in two different cities, I haven’t found the gumption to speed away again. Not yet.
The first few months in my new home were magical. It seemed as though this life was designed for me. At that time, the woman in my body loved everything she had to offer and yearned for others to see it, too.
I met him online. Facebook, to be exact. It was wild how we connected, clicked, and cautiously approached each other for digital conversation and the goings-on of getting to know one another.
My best friend was my roommate at the time. She was great “company to keep”, but I wanted more. And he was the more I was seeking.
After a few weeks of shooting the shit, we decided to meet in person for our first date.
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Which brings me back to that cold, winter’s night. I do not remember the time we agreed on nor do I truly remember what we did. My bones tell me we planned to do movies and then dinner. So, let’s say we did exactly that.
When he arrived at my apartment building’s front entrance, I smiled at the sight of him. I walked outside to our stoop because he called to tell me he was turning the corner and would be at my place shortly.
He was a perfect gentleman. He ran up to me, scooped me up, and hugged me as tightly as he could. It was a full embrace –a Grandpa Hug. I melted in his arms.
To this day, whenever I see him, I say, “You give the best hugs.”
It was lip-biting cold and we were freezing our asses off, so we decided to get into the truck and escape the monotony of the night. He guided me to the passenger side, peeled back the door, and held it with one hand while he led me inside with the other. Once I was seated, he had to summon the strength of The Hulk to close the door with both hands.
This truck was old. Nah, it wasn’t just old . . . it was ancient. It made a loud, clanking sound while we rode up and down the hills of Winston-Salem. I panicked the entire ride. The heat worked. It sputtered and coughed and he had to tap the dashboard every few minutes to keep it from going cold.
I sat in my seat and prayed we would not get stranded anywhere in this still new-to-me city. He reassured me, “It gets me everywhere I need to go.” While I thought to myself, “Yeah, but how safe is this vehicle, really?!”
He was the best date I had since an old high school-to-college love of mine. He was respectful, a lover of music and writing, the eldest of four children, and was soaking in the newness of recently burying his father.
Something in me cried for him. We dated off and on for about nine years–breaking up and getting back together. Finally, I told him, “We are so good to each other but we are not good for each other.”
Because no matter what we did, our schedules failed us. His grief failed us. My intent on writing, connecting, and running to other people failed us.
He traded in that clunker of a truck for a Jeep Cherokee one year after it finally died on one of our major highways. He traded in the recklessness of who I was for a lovely sweetheart of a woman who knows how to stay put.
We had an amazing life together. We just weren’t amazing together. You sit with that for a while. It’ll come to you.
Every time I think about my first winter in North Carolina, I think about him and that old clunker of a truck, and the strength it took for him to close the door to his broken down and beat-up vehicle, and the heart it took for him to finally walk away from me.
And honestly, I smile. Because really, everything was perfect but the truck.
many of us perform on stages of our own making which later become our undoing,
yet we wonder why we falter.
my new neighbor has a funky attitude but she owns a dog, and I find that mysteriously intriguing. how can you be callous and care for something the complete opposite of that?
I speak when I see her, acknowledge her curt stares, and nod to display kindness, and that is the extent of our exchanges.
I miss my old neighbor.
she moved about two months ago to be on a stage that life planned for her; homeowner . . . she doesn’t like her new neighbors, either. says they let their Pit run amuck and loudly bark at the comings and goings of others.
she sends me text messages saying she may have made a mistake. and I don’t want to agree, but I don’t like this new neighbor, so in my heart of hearts, I secretly concur but instead say, “Give it a bit more time. It may end up surprising you. None of us really ever loves change.”
and on this stage I’ve built for myself, I’m patiently waiting for a future that could lend me more happiness. of late, I’ve been searching for it and it has been elusive.
1. Three Sisters. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
2. Jernee Timid, the Princess. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
1. Three Sisters is a photo of my laptop wallpaper featuring my best friend’s three dogs. The puppy, Riley-Blu (she decided to go with “Riley” instead of “Misty”) is the newest addition. I love this photo of all three of them watching the Amazon delivery person drop off their mommy’s package.
Because there are now three of them, I had to change my laptop wallpaper to feature them. When I launch my laptop and enter my password to get to my main screen and their little bodies are sitting/standing before me, I cannot do anything but smile. You are looking at (in this order) Riley-Blu, Bella-Rue, and Stacey-Lou.
Baby girl is already feisty. My best friend sent me a video of her playing with her oldest sister, Stacey-Lou, and she was holding her own. LOL! Stace was trying to pin her down at one point, and I heard my best friend’s voice sternly say, “Stacey, don’t do that. Get off her.”
And Stace hopped up and backed away quickly. That little one, though?! She lunged toward Stacey like, “Um, don’t back away now!” LOL! I cannot wait to see her and shower her with treats and gifts!
I’ll probably take a day trip to see them in the next two to three weeks. And of course, I’ll share a few photos and maybe a video, too.
2. Jernee Timid, the Princess is a photo I snapped of Jernee while she relaxed in my new chair! Now, for those of you unaware, I purchased this chair for me because Jernee insists on commandeering my other chair and sitting in it. This DIVA likes this chair, too. She has a whole couch and my other chair in which to sit, yet she wants this one as well.
I cannot win for losing with this Little Monster! I told one of my friends about it and showed her the picture and she calmly said, “Well, what’s yours is hers anyway, so what’s the problem?” LOL! I guess she has a point!
I just go on over to the other chair (my first favorite chair), sit in it, and keep it moving. Happy Jernee Timid, happy life. LOL!
A Cornered Gurl 
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