Maybe for the Summer

by Aubreé Pynn

Thank you.” “For what?” “Giving me you and all your healing love. How you love me, how you speak to me – to every part of me is the realest shit I’ve ever known. You deserve whatever you want and then some.” “You is enough.”

That’s my wife. And she carrying my kid.” “Oh no,” Charlie whined, feigning distraught. “I’m never going to have a shot.” “Yo, you gon’ have me put your ass through the fuckin’ glass,” Julius replied.

You unlocked some shit in me that was lying dormant. I used to let people walk all over me. I used to let them handle me however while I broke my back trying to please them. Then I met this man that poured into me effortlessly, erratically but it was pure and intentional. Whatever threatens to pull that from me will forever be met by fire and fury.”

“He asked if we had any history of mental illness, and I told him no. But I feel like we got inherited trauma. PTSD passed down that makes us from the womb and follows us.

“I’ve had the pleasure of watching you blossom in front of me. Every one of these pictures taken at a different point. I want to keep adding to this. Watching you grow as a woman, as a mother, as my rib. This exhibit wasn’t complete without you. You said I gave you power, but you covered me in your peace. Even when I was out of my head. You’ve been the best thing I’ve ever had, Butterfly.”

“Don’t stop finding new ways to love her. Don’t forget to respect her decisions.

“All I want is you to always be my butterfly, my Lotus, my Day. Love when it’s hard to. Keep praying for me. Keep me close.”

“It’s for our kids to grow up in safer neighborhoods. Our brothers to have the mental health support they need. Our sisters to have the community to lift them up and never tear them down.