There are people who hate the rain. It's gross out, they say. But this same rain makes flowers bloom and not you too? Or maybe you're so beyond nature that you've used your magical human powers to simulate the chemical reaction between an oxygen and two hydrogen molecules, and rendered the drinking water provided by rain useless? Well, that's fine. But me, personally, I love the rain. It rained on my graduation day. We were outside in the middle of Wallace Wade because there was no rain location. The first time in over 16 years that there had been no sunshine. And even with my perm, I didn't mind. That morning, my daddy said that rain brings blessings. Coming from the man that taught me that fail to prepare is to prepare to fail, I heeded his prayer and stopped using umbrellas.

my cousin sent me a chain text msg and I didn't hate it.

Dear God,

This is my girl, my friend, my sister, whom I love and this is my prayer for her.

Help her live her life to the fullest. Please promote her and cause her to excel above her expectations.

Help her to shine in the darkest places where it is impossible to love.

Protect her at all times,

Lift her up when she needs you the most and let her know when she walks with you she will always be safe.

Amen.

it pours.

lately, I've dreaded seeing my mother's name pop up on my phone. a crazy feeling, because I love talking to her, but these calls always have me on edge. with bated breath, I slowly answer the call, surprised each time when not gloom and sadness, but joy and jubilation greet me. and then I exhale. that's how I lived for the past year.

I would get dressed in the morning, 75% of the time with no plan for what to wear, just letting outfits form in the 14 minutes I have to dry off, make up, and clothe myself. I'll skip across the service road onto the median of EP, and think to myself, please don't let today be the day. not on the day that I'm coincidentally wearing all black. I've seen this happen before. it was 1994, I remember.

that's how I lived for the past year. in fear.

bracing myself for death.

my mother called yesterday. she said she needs me to do two big favors for her. stacey is starving in statesboro again and needs some extra change until mahj gets to the bank to xfer money for her, I thought. "they're calling the family and saying that it's time to go to the hospital to say goodbyes to Uncle Happy, and I need you to go on behalf of our household." ummm, of course, but what?!  "and they're saying Uncle Allan has a week left." ummm, okay. are those the favors? "yes."

an hour later,

"nevermind, Stef. you don't need to go to the hospital."

and so it goes.

I miss you like crazy

happy birthday, shanna. I hope you're proud of us.

these two.

Clifton's Culinary College

I've seen grown men pass out from sensory overload. call it overstimulation, if you will.

curry beef and roti coming soon.

home sweet home

dear mahjah

for those nights that I just couldn't take it anymore and I broke. down. you told me everything was gonna be alright. you talked me through everything, step by step. you helped me come up with a plan. and when everything came together as I at one point thought it couldn't, I'd run to call you just so I could hear you say "I told you so." because you know what? you did.

I'd call you with my dream of the day. the latest blueprint to take over the world. and you'd tell me to put God first. to trust in Him. to be thankful. to be prayerful. to be positive. and if I so wanted to go to the moon, I'd get there. most importantly, you never told me I couldn't. you'd ask to come along.

you & fahjah left New York because, 20+ years later, you were ready for a break. to relax. because you deserve it. but you knew Georgia wasn't in the cards for me. you knew that we'd have hundreds of miles between us. that we'd see each other just a handful of times every year. that we'd be doing this mother-daughter thing long distance. and on those days that I felt beat up by the city that you left for that very reason, instead of telling me to come home, I'd wake up to an encouraging BBM. a hug through the phone.

because today was a good day. i burst into lauren's apartment, jubilant. if I could still do a cartwheel, I would've done ten. my first apartment. that's huge. and it's everything I wanted. perfect. i'm going to remember this day. just like I remembered this day. exactly a year ago. graduation. mother's day.

thank you. I couldn't have done it without you.

you're a big star today!

happy 21st birthday to the kelis to my beyoncé, the best little-sister-born-on-March-11 that a girl could ask for!

certified gangtas

#11. I'm not giving up my last name. I hope my husband understands.

they say you can't choose your family, and i'm glad because i doubt i would've had the foresight and good judgment to make such an excellent decision. JC really hooked me up. ive got a good, loving, supportive, psychotic bunch, and for them I'm eternally grateful.

i want to be a better big sister.

i'm pretty straight laced. my parents instilled the fear of God and them at quite a young age so any bad crap I did, I learned to hide pretty well. plus, in the grand scheme of things, it prob wasn't that bad. besides, every kid finds her way to the liquor cabinet eventually. i'd like to think that since my sibs didn't see me doing bad things, it lessened the likelihood that they'd end up doing hoodrat shit with their friends. and you know what, they haven't turned out too bad at all, quite great actually. i guess they really don't need me.

but, if you decide that you do:

Stacey- repeat "3, 2, 1, 1, 2, 3, what the hell is bothering me?" before you swing.

Shonette- Dean's list is attainable. skip a party if you have to. it's easier to stay out of the hole than dig yourself out of one (twss? no homo?).

Shawn- you're never too old or tall to get your ass whooped in tennis. respect my authoritah!


and if anyone tries to fuck wit yall, load the theme music and we'll ride on 'em
we don't appeal to the law
you know we ride this motherfucker til the wheels'll fall off
the first bastard get fly
you know *breh* *breh* *breh* was my reply



actually, just promise me you'll stay in school.

Christmas in Queens

we've spent Christmas in Georgia for the past five years. this next selection goes out to my childhood:

It's Christmas time in Springfield G
Dad's cooking pepper pot and seasoning meat
Mom's baking bread, mixing up cake
and Santa is already two hours late!
Decorate with lists all over the house
Shawn wants Power Rangers
Stace & I want bikes
Shonette wants a karaoke machine,
mom says we'll get nothing if we don't go to sleep!
So up the stairs, we run to our beds
Dreams of toys run through our heads
Finally we close our eyes
to wake up to a great Christmas surprise!





Merry Christmas!


p.s. to all those writing "X-mas", this public service announcement brought to you by Shawn:
"Heavenly Father, I just wanted to say Happy Birthday!"

let's remember to put the "Christ" back in "Christmas"
amen.

home is where the heart is

i hate georgia. i hate atlanta. i hate the south. hate hate hate. i hate it all. it's country as shit, everyone's fat and the men are only checking for each other.

i'm kidding. somewhat.

when my parents said they were moving to georgia, i thought they were kidding too. and then the house was built. and then we started spending holidays there. and then my granny and i were standing in the driveway waving goodbye to the homies in the packed up Windstar, and we turned around to enter an empty house. they straight up peaced on us.

now i'm not mad that they dipped because they're happy and they've got more space and my dad hates on New York like he didn't live here for over twenty years. what i'm mad about is that atlanta is so damn wack. for the past five years that i've been visiting the city and the burbs where my fam now resides, i still don't understand the hype. i have yet to have some incredibly amazing, memorable time that could solely be attributed to atlanta. all they do down there is throw bows, superman hoes and ride in blue lambos.

i just can't.

and yet, i do. because tomorrow, God spare my life, when I wake up at 6am to be super on time for my 8:30am flight, when I try to sleep to make the 2.5 hour flight go by faster, when I touch down and call my mom to tell her I've landed and when I try to not catch an attitude with her as she hasn't left the house yet because she doesn't seem to realize that we're no longer living 5 minutes from JFK and therefore she has to actually leave the house before I land, i'll get picked up in one of three red vehicles with 1-5 occupants. we'll exit the highway onto some country main street with every fast food restaurant you could possibly name. we'll make that left into Weatherstone and slowly come upon the house on the hill. home. where fahjah will only ask "chicken or beef?" because he knows the rest. where mahjah is on the phone telling everyone and the telemarketers that her big daughter is back. where linda, flonase, goat boy, and me, susie, can form a complete Rock Band. and where I try to fight the urge to move.