Always and Forever

When most utter for richer or poorer the hope is that they never have to experience it. Imagine feeling the sting of infidelity, unemployment, autistic children, locked up boys who fell short of expectations and hearing, I want a divorce, there in your white dress.

At the altar you’re flying with the clouds, 10 years into the marriage, the world has crashed down on you. But those words are replayed back to you…for better or for worse.

I have seen true love.

When drug addictions, extreme poverty, homelessness, and 9 kids, my parents lost came along, no one packed their bags, they remembered a vow they never made—to have and to hold forever.

My parents never got married, but they stayed true to each other. Three days old, my father who lived in the neighborhood, looked in her crib and said my mother was the most beautiful baby he’d ever seen and that he’d marry her one day.

My Granddad tried to chase him away and he’s spent the last 36 years they’ve been together still trying. But their love is unbreakable. If you ask my mother to sing you a song, in her strong alto voice, the only song that comes from her heart, she’ll sing, “inseparable…yes baby…that’s what we are.”

When my mother turned 18 my father bought her a red corvette. They had it all. They had 4 houses, all the cars you could imagine and took trips all around the country. Money was not an object. When they battled a drug addiction, the money was gone, but love still persist.

I asked my parents why they never got married and my father said, “Because it would hurt me too much if my wife ever left me.” My mother started laughing like I’d never heard her laugh.

“One time I told your Dad that I was leaving and he looked at me and said, where we going. I knew that day I was stuck with him for life.”

This conversation we had on the porch of an abandoned house they were squatting. They have taught me everything I needed to know about love, life and loyalty. So while my parents did not raise me and have made some decisions that have negatively impacted me I am eternally grateful for the lesson their love taught me.

We ride together, we love together. I'm your's for life.

Dear Lady At the Movies

Dear Lady At the Movies,

It was tough to enjoy Little Fockers because of your disgust with fictional characters. I understand that in your mid-40's you may have experienced some things I never have, nor will. But your anger perpetuated further than that scene.

"Bitter Black woman" was traced around the half smile you tried to give as you walked away. "I only know my worth when a man tells it to me" was plastered and rooted in the blemishes on your skin like it was necessary, like it was lotion.

I wondered if you ever matched your current persona to your past hurts. I get it, he never called you back. You raised three children alone and they learned everything they know from you.

Your daughter only smiles after validation from young thugs with sagging pants. Her idea of romance is attention. She'd call a man her soul mate and when he wanted to leave, she'll chase him, trying to keep her soul.

And your sons, well, you raised them. So they treat women like you allowed men to treat you. Only touting their worth after physical match ups that left you satisfied. They introduce themselves as "Uncle." They'd know there is no need to stay because every time they come back, you let them back in.

And none of them would ever really enjoy a movie. Because your son's would never take a woman and if your daughter really wanted to, she'd go my herself.

With real love,
The girl who sat in front of you...

Black fatherhood

A few weeks ago I realized how serious my passion for Black families is.

A woman came into my job, with her son, and I could tell they had come to meet up with his father. I counted how many times the young boy's mother told him his father probably wouldn't show up.

He probably won't come.

Your Daddy is no good.

Your Daddy is always saying he's gonna do something but he won't.

You had better hope you don't turn our like your Daddy.

I wrote them down on a napkin, while those words penetrated his mind. How many negative things can you tell a young boy about his father before it begins to affect him.

How many times do your hear fathers credit their love for wanting to be a father stemming from their absent father. Although I don't see this as a problem, it frustrates me because how many men will be good fathers because it's their reasonable service to their children.

I believe she was explaining to her son how to be a bad father at that moment. She made it okay. She was influencing what her grandchildren would experience without even recognizing it.

She never said anything to her son about how she met his father or even acknowledged the fact that she actually loved that man enough to lay down with him.

My frustration with her meant nothing to her son, unless I said something.

I did. I told her everything I felt.

She yelled at me. She got snappy.

But if any word that I said to her, it was worth every word she said to me.