I love her. I love her in an empathetic way. I have not lived her life nor known her struggles but she speaks to me as if I am a black woman and I understand. We are all on this journey together.
I love her. I love her in a sisterly, motherly, daughterly way. I can turn to her in the quiet dark times and know that her arms are wrapped around me.
She taught me why the caged bird sings. It doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.
She knows "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you". Hence, this blog.
And in this time of transition for me, she brings me comfort.
"I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life." I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
Most importantly, her words echo in my head as if I am standing at the top of a mountain, screaming into the wild, vast emptiness that lies before me and I know the truth. I know I am right. I know the decision to leave him was difficult, yet I have failed so many times in the past when the unvarnished wood revealed itself to me and I refused to see it in its natural, raw state. Instead, I saw the richest Mahogany from the Ivory Coasts of West Africa.
This time, I am listening to my inner Maya and she is telling me, "The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them".
Whether it's a rainy day, lost luggage, tangled Christmas lights or a Tuesday night when you fell asleep while comforting your child and did not call him. You can tell a lot about a person in these moments.
And this time, I believe.
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