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Rock candy
I'll call her Yvette, but, hell, honestly, I don't remember her name--it's been one, two, four decades ago--but what I do remember is what she said.  Sitting in our assigned seats, in the one unit desk and chair assembly, in our sixth or seventh grade classroom, this girl was talking(more)

What if doing what is right is no longer right for you?  What if honoring a "til death do us part commitment" equates to the death of you?  What if continuting to live "as is" is really relegating yourself to the land of the living dead?

"at your own risk"

“Go with your gut!,” I always tell my students; yet I continually play red light, green light with my emotions about a life changing decision that I have been dangling in front of me like the proverbial carrot.  I know what’s best for me, but(more)
"I love my job," was something a good friend would always say--a sentiment I do not share. Like my job? Yes.  And, believe me,  there's a special place in my heart for my paycheck.   But "love" and "job" are two words I typically don't use in one sentence.  

Knowing m(more)
“fast food”

“Not a damn thing!” That’s my rote reply to the question, when they—my kids—dare to ask, “What’s for dinner?”

“He got yo nose wide open!” Translation: That brother got yo attention!

He does, even though it’s not “supposed” to be this way.  Understand that sometimes what’s “respectable” ain’t always what’s right.

Yeah, he excessively addresses me with the “B” wor(more)
“Okay, baby.”  

When Mama calls me baby, wrapped up in that little laugh, before we finish our phone conversation,  I think, “Now that’s the woman I know.” But more and more, the woman I know is disappearing.  I grew up hearing “I have a memory like an elephant; I neve(more)
The tip-off for me was when I found myself smiling  in the midst of everyday, ordinary stuff—for no apparent reason. It wasn't until then that I realized my “wrong” was really right.  I remember thinking, "Is this what happiness feels like?" That’s what it felt like.
Just because it’s cliché doesn’t make it any less true.  The “line” between love and hate is thin.  It’s so thin that the thick of everyday life will—if you’re not careful—have you easily overlook the demarcations. (more)
I'm seriously considering getting my own place. If I were a young adult, this statement would be “normal,” but I’m not.  I’m a mortgage holding woman, a tad bit over five decades into this thing called life, and I’m fed up with home, as I currently live and breathe it.   (more)
"Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone, it’s only darkness everyday. Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone, she’s always gone too long, anytime she goes away."

Bill Withers obviously was thinking about a woman when he sang this song; these lyrics are what I think about as I hear(more)
no tree to tall

In the projects, where I once lived, we didn’t climb trees; we climbed stairs, sometimes 13 flights with groceries.  Our “neighbors” in the Robert Taylor Homes—52nd and Federal, Chicago southside—didn’t particularly care for my Mama and would often “stop the elevator up” w(more)
I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I was young—young enough to be surprised, but old enough to make a declaration.  

My declaration: I would never stay once the love was gone.  I made this promise to me when I was hit with the reality that people—as(more)
“You look just like your mother.” This is all I heard as a girl, and at 51, nothing has changed.  In many ways, I am just like my mother.  While I don’t mind the pug nose, the curves, the laughter, the smooth coffee with two creams complexion, the obsession of looking(more)
I call them Facebook posters. I’m not sure if that’s what they are really called. You know the posters with the clever sayings that your Facebook friends/family post on their “wall.”  If you really like the sentiment that’s being expressed, then protocol calls for you to give the electronic version(more)