To Be Bossy

It takes many years and a great deal of perspective to truly understand the depth of what your parents have done for you. Most recently, I’ve realized that, thanks to them, I’m bossy. My parents were the type of people who didn’t just tell me that I could do anything I wanted to do; they…

On Illness

I hate hospitals. One of my earliest memories is getting my hand smashed in the side of my great Uncle’s hospital bed. I can distinctly remember the exact shade of red of my grandfather’s blood when he sliced his leg open with a chain saw–dark like oil, with only hints of red around the outside…

The Truth about Death

 My father’s head was tilted back against the reclining chair, leaving his mouth slightly open, light snores escaping him. All of a sudden, the room, which smelled strongly of antiseptic and bile, was completely silent. The strained breathing of my grandmother had stopped. I could no longer hear the steady beep of the heart monitor….

Country Ghetto Prodigy

We have a peanut festival where I’m from. Yup. Peanuts. We harvest them. We celebrate them. And then we have an entire festival devoted to them. Where my parents are from, there’s a peanut factory, their little rickety Black Baptist church on the corner of the road, and the 7/11 where my Grandpa used to hang out with his chipped old…

Renaissance Woman

My piano teacher always used to call me, “Renaissance woman.” Even though I knew it was admirable to have many talents, I took it to mean I was master of none. As I’ve gotten older, gotten into college and tried to specialize my interests into one major, maybe two, I discovered that those one or…

Getting What You Always Wanted

Cutting my hair was the one thing I always wanted to do. My thick, long, relaxed hair was my greatest, and only, beauty. Without fail, every time I set foot in a salon, someone would say enviously, “Look at all that thick hair.” My relatives commented that I looked just like my mother. And I…

The Why

I used to have a “words only” type of blog. I was probably thirteen or fourteen and unsure of what exactly a blog was supposed to be. Now that I’m twenty, I’m still unsure, but I do know that I need a space to express myself, fully and freely. Sometimes your thoughts just take up…