Sunday

Shoe Personality of the Week: 5/12/13

I know, I know...I'm in the middle of a writing challenge. Well, there's 2 things that won't change here. First, I still don't blog on Fridays or Saturdays. Second, Sunday will ALWAYS be dedicated to the Shoe Personality of the Week. There's a 3rd thing, & that's when the words don't fit, I don't force them--which is why I don't think I posted on Thursday either. So, lets get into this shoe.

I've been trolling the innerwebs for the perfect shoe for this week. I was looking at all kinds of open toe, pedicure highlightin' lovelies but I wasn't connecting with anything. I saw things I liked but not much that truly spoke to me. Then I realized it was because my own toes were actually cold. We waited on that damn groundhog to mislead us & then banked on the onset of Spring & then got duped. My own toenails are currently a fun shade of blue reminiscent of Skittles & begging to be showcased in the season's wedges. The season, however, ain't cooperating & has me still making sure my socks match & my ankles are warm. That left me to have to identify what other aspect of my current situation I can share with you all. Enter these:



What are they saying to me right now? Renewal. Retro is in but everything is coming back around with a spin or an embellishment, some small change. While I don't feel old enough to be a throwback, I do recognize that I AM in a state of renewal. I'm 2 years shy of 40, something I was never afraid of but couldn't imagine as a little girl. My mother was never old but being a mother, by default, she was old. Actually, the way it worked in my mind--& maybe yours too--is that if you were an adult you were old. There were children & there were adults. I didn't understand age or timelessness or fountains of youth or your current age once old becoming the new not old equivalent. I knew children did or didn't do certain things & then 1 day you become an adult & the whole world would open up. Well, that's still true, but there are phases that this aging thing moves through & the phases are a result of the decisions we make. I choose youth.

I didn't say I choose 'young.' I'm only as old as I feel. While I do appreciate a good nap & not so worried about nightlife & kickin' it, I feel EXCELLENT! I'm reclaiming my body BEFORE it goes to the dark side, tightening up my eating habits, & increasing my energy levels naturally. In turn, I not only look better but I feel better too. That means I can also still channel my inner sneaker freak without looking like some ancient poser tryna do what the kids do. No Mom Jeans for me & my version of a "sensible shoe" will not betray my youthful appearance & have you wondering when I took up nursing.

Me & my sneaker freakdom will never part. You'll have to forgive it now if you don't understand it & I'll forgive your lack of appreciation. You can find me in a pair while sweatin' it out or walkin' it out. But DO KNOW, when Mom Naycha decides she's gon' let Spring & Summer werk, I'll break out my Starburst colored pedis in some wedged out wonders & celebrating the softer side of Ndygo.

Watch me move.

Wednesday

Day 6: Most Vivid Dream

The park bustled with the sounds of glee and wonderment. Children's voices excitedly intermingling with those of parents reliving their childhoods through their children's eyes. It's warm, it's always warm. The sun shines down from a cloudless sky, only the trees offer some cover. The trees are many and yet not enough to protect from the sun's glare, intense heat and indiscriminate touch.

I am one of those children. A little girl there for the thousandth time, holding her daddy's hand. It's the ape house where we start and plan to end. The baby orangutans are intriguing playmates through glass. Wiry hairs sprout from their heads and their small, inquisitive eyes ask wordless questions that I'm sure I can answer. Their hands, ugly, flat and leathery, palm the glass in search of an accidental space that might give way to real touch. Their mothers watch lazily, clear that the glass protects the babies from my human stench and laugh inwardly at the fear they know I have but that I have yet to be introduced to.

Without warning, the sun is no longer hanging center sky like a ballroom chandelier. An ominous darkness falls and fear becomes palatable, able to be touched and tasted and choked on. Something bad is going to happen. Something bad is always going to happen whenever the sun is put out and the sound of laughter is muted without warning. First it's on and then it's off.

I'm alone. My daddy's hand has slipped from my grip or mine from his and I'm alone. I spin like one of those music box ballerinas, slow and careful, in search of him. The strangers enjoying the park, which is a zoo, become more strange in the shared plate of fear that none of us ordered. And I can't find him. There's running. I am running and they are running but to what I don't know and they don't seem to either. Chaos. My daddy is nowhere to be found. The mute button is pressed and the strangers' voices are released but their sounds are separate from the calls for my father. Their voices are a backdrop to mine, like a music in the background the forewarns of bad things. It's redundant because that's already clear with the absence of the sun, the running and the screaming. And I'm alone when I shouldn't be because I'm a little girl.

Searching for my father at a zoo that's in a city park means there shouldn't be any cliffs but I ritualistically arrive at a ledge with no other choice but to fly. It's related to finding daddy, like if I don't take the leap and fly I'll never find him. I lean over and wake up shaken, shaking, and crying. Every time.



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It was difficult to choose which vivid dream to share. There's this 1 & the 1's where I can fly, well & no one else around me can. There's another 1 but they're only vivid in the very realness of the way I experience them and bring them out of my dream state with me. Unfortunately, the only thing that would make for a vivid description of those dreams is what I bring out of them. The dreams themselves would make for a pretty boring read. Maybe this 1 did too. My apologies.

Watch me move.