Father’s Day 2020

It’ll be 7 years this September since my father made his transition. And still I wish I could hug him. I loved him very much and yet there are things I wish I could have done differently. That being said, the clarity of that knowledge, and perhaps a gift, as it came in the wake of his passing, has definitely influenced aspects of my relationship with my mom in the best of ways. I hope 😉🙂 Wishing all the dear fathers a Happy Father’s Day ♥️And to the sons and daughters missing their fathers, holding heart space for you and enveloping you in love♥️

My Niece, What a Gift

The other day, I FaceTimed with one of my brothers to check in and see how he was doing. He was a little preoccupied with some home improvement work, but we spoke for a bit and afterwards, I asked if my niece was around and what she was up to.  He said she was watching television. As television is not the norm for her at their house, I asked if he thought she’d want to speak with me, to which he replied she always wants to speak with me. So he handed the phone over and her gorgeous smile lit up my screen. 

As with her father, we chatted for a bit and then I said I’d let her get back to watching her show, but wondered if her mom was around. She said she was and was doing some work. I said something along the lines of not wanting to interrupt her then. To which my 6 year old niece replied, she didn’t think that would be a problem. She didn’t think her mom would be too busy to say hello especially since they all loved me.  And in that moment, I added this exchange to the many unexpected and treasured memories that I’ve thus far experienced involving this bright light of a gift to our family ♥️ Then taking me to her mom, she blew goodbye kisses, before handing over the phone. 

Her mother and I ended up speaking for about twenty minutes 😊

Thought Rambles— Children Deserve

 I love my mother.

And when I question her stance on a subject, she’ll eventually reply that when she was growing up, she listened quietly when the grownups spoke and never interrupted. 

I believe her. I do. It was a different time. It was a different culture. I don’t for a second doubt that she listened quietly.

But I wasn’t there so I can’t say if that was the right thing to do, because older doesn’t necessarily equal wisdom. It does in some cases until it doesn’t. Being an “adult” does not mean you suddenly have a monopoly on wisdom.

And I’m not my mother. I’m me. And now that I’m older and have had my own life experiences to draw from and have done some observation of the world around me, there’s a good chance that I’ll speak up if I don’t agree with something the other adults are saying. Not to be antagonistic, not to be disrespectful but to question why certain perspectives are being embraced especially when from where I stand it looks an awful lot like inviting more pain into that person’s life. And not the, “that which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger” pain but more along the lines of that “is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me. I will die at the stake” variety.

I believe that the next generation has the potential to help heal perspectives   held and perpetuated by their parents because, in many cases— though not all— what mom and dad knew was based on how they observed and related to their mothers and fathers. For example, based on my experiences and observations, I now understand the difference between discipline and punishment and I can tell you that many of West African descent of a certain age, growing up, only knew punishment, (though those doling it out would call it, “discipline”) because of their parent’s own upbringing that if you “spare the rod you spoil the child.”

I now know that adage isn’t true. 

Children deserve your consciousness, your presence. They deserve the best that you can offer from a place of love. They deserve everything that can help them thrive and grow their heart, their self esteem, their wisdom. 

Impending Job Search

 Amongst other things on the list, nothing like the feelings surrounding an impending job search to have one questioning their confidence in their marketable abilities.

The tremors in the fault lines of one’s confidence can be attributed to feelings of self worth. Specifically how you’ll be judged by the hiring manager. 

When I’ve felt those tremors, it’s often because I’ve momentarily abandoned myself. Momentarily relinquished perceptions of me to inhabit the skin of this, often faceless, other. An “other” who I imagine is more so against me than for me. Which is an odd way to view someone who, by the very fact of taking applications and resumes and, eventually, meetings, does want to fill the position. 

Sooner or later, hopefully arriving quickly to the former, I return to myself. I breathe and breathe until the stomach butterflies settle. And then, and only then, I look at the things in my control: a resume, a cover letter, an interview outfit, getting help with any of the first three from someone I trust— someone I know or someone who specializes, at the very least, in the first two, — prayer or a kick ass affirmation or the employment of both. Take control of what you can control and allow all that isn’t in your control to be. After all, since you can’t control it, any attempts is expending energy that can be better spent elsewhere.

This is also a time to mentally swim in some positives. You can think of what you’re grateful for in your life. It doesn’t matter how many things and the only requirement is that it’s something you’re grateful for (ie the fact that pancakes exists in the world, or a particular song that moves you, or your amazing, intelligent, big hearted, beautiful niece, etc). Or you can think about what you’ve grown through in life. This might include what you consider to be tangible accomplishments (ie, you graduated high school) or those that are even more personally nourishing (that time you spoke up because it felt like the thing you needed to do). The point is to comeback to yourself and give voice or give thought to and actively witness some of the experiences that have positively contributed to how you’ve moved through your life thus far. 

Peeom

“Peeom.” That’s what it sounded like to me. ”Peeom. Peeom. Peeom. Peeom. Peeom. Peeom.” And on. And on. And— you get the picture. “Peeom.” Seemingly all through the night. Felt like all through the night. It had a slightly high pitched, nasally, video game like quality with the sustained constancy of the latter. A constancy that has me thinking of the painting, The Scream. Because it literally made me want to. Because it was nighttime and I was trying to sleep.  I got up a few times and opened the door and the sound stopped. But then I’d get back in bed— sometimes even before I made it in— and then I’d hear, “Peeom. Peeom. Peeom.” At one point, I opened the door fully and found the sound maker a few feet away, lying in the landlord’s garden. A cat. Still lying there as I stood in the doorway, not appearing to be in distress, said cat just looked at me.  I think I said something along the lines of, “Really? Could you stop?!” before going back inside. Imagine my surprise at the silence that followed! It was the type of moment one might see on a television show where the neighbor has been woken up in the middle of the night by noises — perhaps furniture being moved around upstairs. Looks at the clock—it’s almost 2 am?!! Gets up, grabs the long handle of a broom and raps hard against the ceiling in protest. In the television show, his efforts lead to victory. Silence and order is returned. He puts the broom away, gets into bed, turns off the lamp, snuggles deeper under the covers. And then, “Peeom. Peeom. Peeom.” And that’s how it stayed until sometime around 6am.