July 7, 1995. After being formed in my mother's womb, God chose this day, July 7th, to make my physical existence known to the world. Later in life, I would question God's motive regarding His reasoning behind my existence in such a deluded wasteful world. But, at this moment my mother was able to hold her squealing baby girl in her arms for the very first time. I wonder what my mother thought when she held me in her arms for the first time. I ponder the emotional rollercoaster she had to endure to bring me into such a dissolving world. All the dreams, aspirations, and most importantly…hope, that she had for me.
Maybe, I would cure cancer, be the first African American President, win a Noble Peace Prize. What were the dreams you had for me, mama? What were you trying to shield me from mama? I just wonder.
Bringing me home for the first time. I wonder what my father's reaction was to seeing his baby girl lying in her crib, curiosity overtakes my being, wide eye and laughing. I ponder how he felt when he saw me crawl for the first time. The excitement or fear he may have experienced. Father, were you excited on July 7th, 1995 when you first saw me escape mother’s womb, or were you disappointed? Did you want another boy father? Was I a mistake father?
Did you see the hope my mother so eagerly accepted and wishfully saw every time she looked into my innocent wide eyes? Father, did you see all the promise mother saw or did you predict a life of, teenage pregnancy, food stamps, projects and ghettos, simply because that’s all you knew. Did you push your insecurity and doubt on me, father, before giving me a fighting chance to escape the depths of poverty, materialism, systematic racism, depression, or fear? Did you not expect much of me, simply because you didn’t expect much of yourself? I just wonder.
Carelessness. How could you be so inconsiderate, grandma? As a small child, I solely relied on you for support, guidance and most importantly protection. You were supposed to be the shield form the dark terrors that walked the streets in broad daylight. Wisdom, when unawareness and ignorance were consumed daily. But rather you were a cascade of ill wishes, bitterness, hatred, anger, alcoholism, abuse, and doubt severely flooding my youthful life. At a very young age, I realized I could not trust you. I learned that you will not protect me from the dark terrors. I learned from you that alcoholism is in fact, a disease, and bitterness will destroy a person's soul.
You taught me that there is a thin line between love and hate. You made it clear to me that once pride finds home within a person spirit, it will adapt, harness this host's emotions and grow like wildfire spreading through an evergreen forest; destroying all that tries to step in the way. The day that I was rushed to the hospital, due to my burns, (that I now blame you for), what were you thinking grandma? I honestly don’t remember my emotional state, but every day, I look down I am bombarded with the notion that you were just so damn careless.
Where you expecting a baby boy, big brother? Where you disappointed when you realized that my name was Alicia and not Alex. Did the dreams of playing video games, basketball, and of course, football completely vanish when you saw me? A girl. How did you react? Did you enjoy the attention you were receiving as an only child? Did I steal your “thunder”? Knowing the man, I know today, I doubt there were any ill feelings of my homecoming, but who really knows.
Big brother, what do you aspire of me in this world? Do you want, me to find a great guy, get married and live a life traditional life? What do you think of me? What do you think of the decisions that I have made in my life? Do you look down on me because I stopped attending church? Are you ashamed of me, brother? What's my favorite color brother? Who is the favorite singer? What are my fears? My dreams? How could possibly know the answers to any of this, you don’t call. Is the life you're building for yourself more important. Am I just a nuisance, brother?
I was in a dark emotional state a few months back, brother, and I really needed you. I needed your prayer, your guidance. You just didn’t pick up the phone. I love you so much bother, and I do not blame you for anything. You were my rock when I felt like falling. You are my big brother. My protector, my friend. But, when you get married and move on, what will be left of us, brother? Would fading memories, be all that we have of each other? I just wonder.
Self: Why do you allow such chaos to wreak havoc, and dismantle your mental well being? Why does your soul feed on anguish and dismisses any slight light of hope or peace? Why do you build such high, walls of brick to guard your mind and heart, yet get upset when others grow tired of trying to get around such walls? Why are you so afraid? What are you so afraid of? Being loved or cared for? Or are you simply scared of being free because you don’t know where that can lead? I wonder...
