of course

me and sistah on the steps of the apt. we shared in chicago

a week and two days.

that's how long i've been back home in l.a. since i returned from my address: house of corrections national book tour.

i've been decompressing. and not realizing just how exhausted i really was, i've been delaying writing this entry. but now that i've made myself sit down to write it, i gotta admit -  i'm somewhat at a lost for words.

one thing that keeps running through my mind, though, is a priceless moment i shared with sistah at johnny rockets.

picture it: washington, d.c. m. street. 10:30pm or so,  monday, nov. 11, 2010.

starving – because i never had an appetite before or during any of my readings/signings – i was studying the simple 50s themed menu, praying that they served turkey burgers when sistah touched my hand.

"sister."

i looked up at her.

"yeah?"

sistah smiled, sincere.

"don't be discouraged by the small numbers of people coming out for your signings."

blinded by low blood sugar, i shrugged.

"i'm not discouraged. i'm hungry."

i looked back down at the menu, not waiting for her to respond. sistah's silence, though, made me peek back up.

she was still looking at me. i set the menu down on the table and  took both of her hands, giving her my undivided attention.

"alright. let me have it. "

"have what?"

"i can see your wheels turning, sistah. you got a keep hope alive speech for me. i can feel it."

sistah, as transparent to me as the back of my own hand, smiled.

"i just don't want you to be discouraged, sister. i'm so proud of you. you sat down and wrote your book, published it yourself and now you're on tour.  that's something to proud of."

i nodded. sistah was right. it's just that up until that point, i hadn't slowed down long enough to really think about it.

not a problem.  sistah had thought about it enough for both of us.

"and you know what? it doesn't matter how many people come out for you right now. you're building. i was talking with one of the other authors when we were in chicago and he was impressed by you. you know why?"

i had no idea.

"because you invested in yourself, sister. you didn't just put your book out on amazon.com, hoping it would sell – you used your own money to go on tour."

i nodded. sistah was right again. she brought it home.

"you know, i've been sitting back watching people watch you… and, sister, you have no idea who you're touching. but most importantly, now you can say you did it, sister. you didn't just talk about writing and publishing your book and going on a six-city tour. you did it. and that's why i'm proud of you."

i smiled. sistah was so cute.

separated by nearly four years, i was the oldest. and growing up, i was the one who took care and supported her. when our mother, a 20-plus-year cancer survivor, was ill, i became a surrogate mommie at ten. And through high school and college especially, i someway, somehow was always able  to earn extra money winning some writing contest or reporting for newspapers on internships, so that i could help pay for what she needed — getting her hair done, school supplies, groceries, clothes, whatever….

and now as adults, the shoe is on the other foot. for the past 14 years, she has been supporting me. from choosing northwestern university law school, so that we could live together in chicago to financially saving my films carmin's choice and rain to taking the lead on subsidizing our mother's retirement income, because my artistic, bohemian money is funny, sistah – next to my ride or die momma – has been my biggest supporter.

she – knowing i needed help before i did – even voluntarily took time off from her jobs as an attorney and detroit charter commission chair to be my roadie! and here she was proud of me?

i squeezed her hands, too full to articulate what i was really feeling.

"wanna chocolate shake, sistah?"

she smiled, hearing everything i was not saying.

"of course."

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