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Healing doesn’t always look graceful, and it's not always linear. Sometimes it looks like silence, like space, like setting boundaries, even when your heart wants to do the opposite.
“The day was perfect, Ma,” I said, smirking. “Pretty sure I met my wife today.”
“Fine as hell, got an attitude, and loves her son. The kind of woman you bring home. Mark my words I’m bringing her home.”
“Lord, have mercy. You’ve got too much confidence for your own good. Always had too much dip on your chip.” “Confidence got me this far. I can’t turn my back on my superpower now.”
“I told that snitching-ass nurse I don’t eat breakfast food for breakfast. I said if they brought me an Italian sub and loaded potato from McAlister’s, I’d eat. Simple. Funky breath heffa.”
Because underneath all that armor, she was just a girl who wanted what every strong woman deserved, to be chosen, pursued, thought of, touched gently, chased a little, and loved on without having to ask for it.
I would’ve jacked his up out of that damn car and put belt to ass.”
“That’s what love looks like, Sametra. Protection when it counts. Distance when it’s needed. And the strength to know the difference. It’s a balance.”
I was starting to understand what my mom meant about being half gone. My ass wasn’t halfway; I was already in orbit. Sametra woke something up in me. My heart said stand the fuck up, and I listened.
I was looking forward to my tomorrows instead of just surviving them.
“Baby girl, you been carrying that man’s failures on your back for seventeen years. Acting like his inability to be a father and a man somehow reflected on you and your character.” His voice was gentle but firm. “It doesn’t. It never did. And it’s about time you stopped letting it dictate how you live your life.”
As we sat there on the deck, watching the sun start to set over the ridge, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time: pure, uncomplicated peace. My son was healing, my family was supportive, I was finally going after my dreams, and there was a man in my life who made me feel like anything was possible.
“Independence is cool, but stubbornness ain’t. You gotta let someone in, let someone run to save you.”
“You don't get to come in here throwing your weight around. Next time you come to see your son, do it like you give a damn, at a decent time, with some damn respect.”
“I don’t want just moments with you, MiMi. I want every damn beginning. Over and over. I want to memorize the way your body moves under mine, the exact second your eyes close when you feel safe. I want the falling, the trusting, the choosing, the waiting, and the fire that comes when we start again. That’s what I’m on. I don’t want temporary. I want you…real, vulnerable, and all the way mine.”
“Then you’re my girlfriend, my yeah yeah, my pookie butt, my ole lady, my LT, my sun, my moon. Should I keep going?” “I’m almost curious to see how long you can go.” “My first, my last, my everything, my sand at the beach, my salt of the ear—”
A hot damn, missing my man ass mess.” “Oh, so a category 5?”
“Okay, so a little grit and grace will go a long way.
God said to turn your setback into a comeback.
“Sending gifts ain’t the same as showing up, baby. You’re treating the symptoms, not the problem. She don’t need your money, she needs your presence, your leadership.”
“There’s a difference between pushing and pursuing, Malik.”
Soon we’d be looking at houses together, planning nurseries, arguing about baby names. I just wanted to be back on the right side of a love song with her, the kind where the man gets the girl, where love wins, where families stay together. Not that side where the sun loses the fight to the rain.
The moment. The legacy. My woman. My son. My future.
