Life is unexpected. I don’t think anyone of us ever truly figures this thing called life out. I mean two people sleep together and make a baby and then you have another life force in to existence. And then depending on the circumstances, that life force has an adventure of many story lines, and then uses up its universal energy and poof it’s gone. And eventually forgotten, right? I mean who can you recall from 200 years ago? Even if you read about an individual in history books, that person’s memory has not lived on because all those who could remember are long gone too.
So what’s the point of all of this? And how is it that a person cannot exist, and then exist and then not exist again. Something from nothing. I think therefore I am, but one day I will stop processing thought. Which drives me mad, because I cherish this thing called life. I love who I am as an individual and I love and adore those people in my life who complete me; my 78-year-old paternal Grandmother, my mom, my dad, all of my brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews and countless friends. Every night before I go to bed, I thank the Lord for all of my loved ones, including my crazy cat Jake. I’m so grateful to have so many wonderful people in my life.
I cannot fathom the thought of losing someone. And yet the day will come again, or I will have my final day next. Regardless it just doesn’t seem right to me. Every day I feel I am running out of time and I wonder why are we doing this. Why am I here? What am I suppose to accomplish? What is my purpose in this lifetime? I don’t know yet. I believe in Jesus Christ and that he died for my sins. I’m so grateful, because I have sinned a many. I also like to believe in reincarnation. That we’ve been here before and have been doing this over and over and over again. But what is the point of that? And what happens when we humans destroy this planet called Earth. Do we all fly away together in spirit form or orb away though the galaxy in search of another homeland to journey through. Were we original inhabitants of Mars and then crossed here when our time was up there? So many questions. Perhaps I ponder this moment because of my lack of fulfillment.
About six years ago, I decided to cut off all of my long relaxed hair. I wanted to go natural so that I could grow it back sans chemicals and straightners. Around the same time my mother’s mother, my Granny was diagnosed with cancer. It was a difficult time for everyone. Before she passed, I had a chance to visit with her at the hospital. She was weak, but still noticed the change with my hair. Granny said she liked my naturally curly do and that my new hair style reminded her of her momma. I was immediately intrigued because I had never before been awarded that compliment and I truly appreciated the source of it.
I don’t know much about Granny’s mother. Born in the early 1900’s, her name was Flora Jane Greene and my mom says that she worked hard all of her life. The daughter of a school teacher and a preacher, she was a supervisor over Housekeeping at the historic Phoenix Hotel in Lexington, KY. Mom says for a time when her parents were separated, Mom and Granny stayed with her. Every morning, before her shift, Flora Jane Greene would make pork chops and biscuits for her family for breakfast. When she wasn’t working or cooking for her loved ones, she lived a mysterious life. She believed her house was haunted and saw ghosts all the time. She could even read people’s fortunes. With a coffee cup, she would turn it upside down after you had drunk your coffee, and spin it around three times. She would lift the cup and tell you your future. She told my mother’s hers, when my mom was only six years old.
I have a photograph of Flora Jane Greene. In it she’s beautiful with full lips, high cheekbones and light eyes. Because the photograph is so old, it’s hard to tell if her skin is dark brown like mine or light skinned like my Granny’s. She’s outside somewhere, with grass under her feet and sitting down on a ledge of sort with a small leather handbag to the left of her, and an umbrella on her right. She’s holding something. Mom says it’s an apple, but to me it looks like a small bowl. She looks resigned to the forces of her life. But I wonder what her options really were back then, during those segregated days in America. What were her dreams? Did she ever dream big, or of traveling places that she knew she could never go. Her life regardless of how eventful must have been frustrating, set by limitations through the society of the time.
Life is so different today. So many more opportunities for everyone, so many more dreams to follow. For me, I go where ever I want to go. I do whatever I want to do. Nothing stands in my way, but me, myself and I. And yet I find myself not living up to my potential, and not following my heart’s desire and seeking my dreams. Maybe it’s time for things to change, for me to change. For me to do what’s in my best interest, because in the end, in the telling of tales, what will be my story? After this is all said and done, what do I really have to share of this life of mine? If I don’t have an impact, who will really care? And in the end, why are we really here?
So what’s the point of all of this? And how is it that a person cannot exist, and then exist and then not exist again. Something from nothing. I think therefore I am, but one day I will stop processing thought. Which drives me mad, because I cherish this thing called life. I love who I am as an individual and I love and adore those people in my life who complete me; my 78-year-old paternal Grandmother, my mom, my dad, all of my brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews and countless friends. Every night before I go to bed, I thank the Lord for all of my loved ones, including my crazy cat Jake. I’m so grateful to have so many wonderful people in my life.
I cannot fathom the thought of losing someone. And yet the day will come again, or I will have my final day next. Regardless it just doesn’t seem right to me. Every day I feel I am running out of time and I wonder why are we doing this. Why am I here? What am I suppose to accomplish? What is my purpose in this lifetime? I don’t know yet. I believe in Jesus Christ and that he died for my sins. I’m so grateful, because I have sinned a many. I also like to believe in reincarnation. That we’ve been here before and have been doing this over and over and over again. But what is the point of that? And what happens when we humans destroy this planet called Earth. Do we all fly away together in spirit form or orb away though the galaxy in search of another homeland to journey through. Were we original inhabitants of Mars and then crossed here when our time was up there? So many questions. Perhaps I ponder this moment because of my lack of fulfillment.
About six years ago, I decided to cut off all of my long relaxed hair. I wanted to go natural so that I could grow it back sans chemicals and straightners. Around the same time my mother’s mother, my Granny was diagnosed with cancer. It was a difficult time for everyone. Before she passed, I had a chance to visit with her at the hospital. She was weak, but still noticed the change with my hair. Granny said she liked my naturally curly do and that my new hair style reminded her of her momma. I was immediately intrigued because I had never before been awarded that compliment and I truly appreciated the source of it.
I don’t know much about Granny’s mother. Born in the early 1900’s, her name was Flora Jane Greene and my mom says that she worked hard all of her life. The daughter of a school teacher and a preacher, she was a supervisor over Housekeeping at the historic Phoenix Hotel in Lexington, KY. Mom says for a time when her parents were separated, Mom and Granny stayed with her. Every morning, before her shift, Flora Jane Greene would make pork chops and biscuits for her family for breakfast. When she wasn’t working or cooking for her loved ones, she lived a mysterious life. She believed her house was haunted and saw ghosts all the time. She could even read people’s fortunes. With a coffee cup, she would turn it upside down after you had drunk your coffee, and spin it around three times. She would lift the cup and tell you your future. She told my mother’s hers, when my mom was only six years old.
I have a photograph of Flora Jane Greene. In it she’s beautiful with full lips, high cheekbones and light eyes. Because the photograph is so old, it’s hard to tell if her skin is dark brown like mine or light skinned like my Granny’s. She’s outside somewhere, with grass under her feet and sitting down on a ledge of sort with a small leather handbag to the left of her, and an umbrella on her right. She’s holding something. Mom says it’s an apple, but to me it looks like a small bowl. She looks resigned to the forces of her life. But I wonder what her options really were back then, during those segregated days in America. What were her dreams? Did she ever dream big, or of traveling places that she knew she could never go. Her life regardless of how eventful must have been frustrating, set by limitations through the society of the time.
Life is so different today. So many more opportunities for everyone, so many more dreams to follow. For me, I go where ever I want to go. I do whatever I want to do. Nothing stands in my way, but me, myself and I. And yet I find myself not living up to my potential, and not following my heart’s desire and seeking my dreams. Maybe it’s time for things to change, for me to change. For me to do what’s in my best interest, because in the end, in the telling of tales, what will be my story? After this is all said and done, what do I really have to share of this life of mine? If I don’t have an impact, who will really care? And in the end, why are we really here?
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