They asked me what I could bring to the table. I told them the room. They said, “Why do you need the room?” I said because if not in the room, then I’m outside, and do you know what’s outside? Bugs. Things that bug and pest. Things that bug and pests tend to get noticed, raided, and even physically dismissed. But just like the atmosphere of an 8am court case, I’m standing on business, and in my room is where the table was made.

The prompt for tonight’s challenge is to formulate and attempt to describe, for a moment, the greatest memory of 2024. I can already tell you that every great memory that now submits for me for 2024 includes a desk or some sort of table, where I believe divinity manifested the return of my Unapologetic nature and Curiosities about self, immersion to my immediate and extended, perhaps even cosmically inclusive, environments and ecosystems, and why all of that matters. My favorite memory, if I had to isolate it to just one thing, that cannot overlap with anything else, it would be the first time that I got into a company designated vessel for a very high profile technological and navigationally Innovative and involved Corporation, and was able to feel the enclosure and borrowed security, vehicular security, of driving my first vehicle in over 6 years, that was not commercially licensed, and have the freedom to take it wherever I wanted it to go. For the first time in my life, being a black person with a company designated, dispensed, and accounted for credit card, with my name correctly spelled on it. Having a job and corporate cellular device that acted as the epicenter for how I would eventually maintain as well as fail and sustaining, what I would deem as consistently sufficient, communications with my superiors. I had no idea that buried within this particular memory, I sat on what eventually became my most thrilling summer yet.

A 30-year-old man, from English Avenue, which is also known as an area called the bluff, in residential Atlanta Georgia. A product and incomparable abnormality of the Atlanta Public School System, who then fought and self-educated his way to not only the University of West Georgia but also all the way out to the University of Southern California, just to enter into a six-figure debt for a piece of paper that means nothing. That same 30 year old man, who really had to grow up and become someone who not only walked the walk but had to walk the specific talks that I’ve been privy to and kind of locked into with both the rearing and the passing of my mother only years prior. The same 30-year-old man who knew what hand towels and Rags were for, which is to dab the sweat off of the face, as opposed to continuing to run a race Against Time, community, and myself, when all you have to do, sometimes, it’s just be willing to take the next step, trusting and having the audacity to consistently believe that the next step, irregardless of Road or texture of pathway, mean something, even if you have to Define what that is. The very first time I sat in that company vehicle and closed the door, certain rooted emotions began to consume and then accompany me all the way from home in Kennesaw, Georgia to the dusty and wisdom paved roads of Dyersburg, Tennessee. I remember the bends in the evergrowing flatness of the horizon line up to St. Louis, Missouri. I remember the risk it was driving to Ottumwa, Iowa and the speed I never knew I could sustain trying to escape an inevitable traffic citation in Fargo, North Dakota, only after a long and enduring overnight drive through Sioux Falls, South Dakota, which only springboarded me right to where I finally was headed…Glendive, Montana. I drove every mile. I made it to every stop, every city, and completed every assignment that was allotted to me. At just 30 I can say that I’ve seen a lot of places. At 30, I can say I’ve gone out of my state, and not just because of some academia-based program, but for work. My favorite memory of 2024 isn’t a memory it’s an ongoing experience that just so happened to start when I hit a button that said push to start. I look forward to what the next year has in store, and I hope God is looking forward to our next Journey, because I will never be able to repay him, for the grace and continued favor I managed to find like grains of sand on the beach every day this year. I found me out on that road. And I finally brought him home. I look forward to more submissions to this platform, so thank you for the opportunity.