The Internet can be a cruel and unusual abyss of half-cocked opinions and bargain basement analysis, especially when it comes to Black wom...
Live By the Quill...
The beauty of living alone is that you can do whatever the hell you want, when you want it, and no one is affected but you.
I'm home, fresh off of dance class, fading out to the aromatic lullaby of chicken and black beans on the stove. I came home from my first day back to work channeling a culture not my own and prepared to have those flavors as one true love when I returned from dancing this evening. I'm partially dressed, as I usually am when home alone, and thankful for it. A friend didn't understand the other night when he called to see if he could stop through. His visit required me to step outside of myself and into garments that disrupted the flow of free air between me and me.
Today was a day of smiles through gutteral grumblings at the way adult time is disrespected in efforts to remind us all of what we already know. We know it innately, and it is the reason why we do what we do. Teaching can be taught, but Educators are not created, they are born, and many who stumble into teaching haven't really tripped and fallen. You know when it's for you and when you accidentally thought you could hang in exchange for the falsehood of free summers. Today I smiled and doh-see-doh'd around the room, greeting those I cared to with the knowing smile of those armed for battle to make it through the coming year with sanity and integrity intact. Only the strong will survive. And survival is determined on an individual basis mostly, with disconnected higher ups banging the gavel for you, and ofttimes dismissing your personal judgment.
That is neither here nor there in this instant. The crickets are chirping behind me and the sounds of summer in the nighttime are more beautiful than ever because these days are numbered. I don't wait for my well to run dry... The heat is somewhat bothersome only because of the inevitable sweat, but I know I'll miss the sunkissed days, getting my Vitamin D organically. It's 1 of those nights where the breeze tickles between my thighs as I walk from the back porch to the kitchen and conjures desires for tickling of another sort. But it's too hot. And I don't feel like sharing my chicken and black beans. After the dishes are done, and the sweat washed off my body, I'll take this high to bed. If this night is like any of the other most recent nights, my dream world will be active and I'll wake up both refreshed and reminded of my connection to the Source of it all. I am a child of God and my every move is divine purpose. So is yours.
Tomorrow will bring more grumblings as adults are reduced to children through redundant conversations about how to best serve them. The acronyms change, but the meaning remains the same, and we've heard it time and time again. Through my grumblings, I'll take pause to be thankful for even those things that annoy me. Without all of this, this process that meets with me in the middle, I do not grow. Still waters are not as deep as they seem so I must be in constant motion. Who knows what this new chapter will bring, but I won't sit back and wait for it to write itself. I've got my pen in hand and my fingers on the keys...
Watch me move.