Dear ________,

Do you remember a while back? I think it was around Thanksgiving when you asked me to grow my hair back out. You said I looked cute with it and that I should have some hair to go with my graduation cap in the spring. I laughed and playfully rolled my eyes because most of my hair was shaved off at the time. There was only a small bit of “fluff” I could run my fingers through, so I didn’t really think you were serious, but I kept the thought in the back of my mind, skipping that month’s hair appointment…
wasn’t supposed to lead anywhere. It wasn’t a grand gesture…it didn’t have much thought…rather a lack of funds…yet as time went on and my hair grew…I couldn’t help but smile and think of you…
The next time I saw you it was Christmas time…we were deep into our battles of “I love you more” and “No, I’m doing dishes.” But you still made the sweet tea…extra sweet and always made sure I had a hot glass, my favorite way to drink it. Y’all even waited for me to hang the lights on the tree…. My favorite part of the holidays, decorating the tree with you, though I’m sorry I was a bit late. My exams took longer than I thought. At least the lights glowed bright during those nights. Only a few…
Short weeks past and along came the striking cold air… fierce to the skin…leaving me to freeze from head to toe clinging to a beanie as if it was my home…I decided to skip this hair appointment and just say no… (I was too cold…)
“You don’t have to. I don’t mind. Let me help you.” I would say every time the dishes piled high in the sink or dusting became a thing. But without fail you would smile and say that’s alright. Even when those Grinch lights hung far into the new year…Now I wonder if we got them down in time maybe things would be different…if we didn’t wait. I wish…
I knew what I could say to you. I wish I had the power to turn back time… before the doctor visits… the harsh treatments that tore you apart only hoping they would build you back up… I wish…
I noticed how you changed. The sudden loss of appetite. The lack of color in your face. The dark circles underneath your eyes in the green glow of the Grinch lights. You didn’t put up as much of a fight when I offered to help with dishes. I should’ve known then. You were sitting more…sleeping more…and I wish…
I could be there…from the first scan to this last one. To be there cheering you on through the good days… the bad days… and days when the sun seems to hide, and our pride remains only in your kind eyes.
But sadly, life has different plans.
Now I’m hundreds of miles away – guilt ridden- and only reading updates on Facebook…wondering if I should be afraid with every post, every call, every text I’m stuck waiting, debating whether it’s alright to call… Is it the right time? Should I wake you? Will this be okay? Will this get better? I call out to some unknown power, A deity who can come and make everything better…Yet the new…
Scans aren’t any better. Now you have new treatments I hear that give you a better chance against the raging pain in your chest…. though is it true? Doing this will make your fear appear? Will you lose more this time?
Remember my promise from last thanksgiving? Well, I never made it to a single appointment…and it’s already passed my shoulders…even now I can picture your smile at the thought…But I wanted to ask you, with Christmas a few short months away and my love for short hair anyways…would you let me give you at least a piece of normalcy? Would you let me give back something that beast in your chest took away? I’ll…
Gladly grow my hair out for you. So please don’t cry and as time goes on and my hair grows out, I’ll always smile and think of you with every glance toward a mirror.
I love you,

A letter to little Ashley,

Your such a vibrant , joyous loving soul. With your big brown eyes and dimples that helped illuminate the brightest cheeky smile. Though you were so brave and adventurous, with your tom boy essence as a child , you carry a light that is other worldly, that so many have seen, even in this current moment of time. Its been years when i finally opened that trap door in the shadows of my mind where you were forced to hide all those years. Chained by the spirit of fear. From the negative talks of the projections of faithless word cursing that crushed the magic of creation you had inside that was birthing, it had seemed to have died and smoldered in the ashes of self ,within.
Though it was their diminished beliefs, and self centeredness , they were indeed clueless without bearing witness to your trauma caused by the sexual acts that took place in the basement. The yelling from the constant bedwetting and the stuttering and stammering over words from excitement not noticing it was a clue to the breach within our genetic system. It was the cause of your delayed learning and bouts of anger, because you couldn’t express growing beyond your mental cognition it cause a schism. From that rose a grim reaping to loom over your divinity that tarnished your faith and strength in self for years, and that became the same fear and pain that grew like a tumor of cancer throughout our life. As of today, i am still battling that parasite, just so you can unleash the power you’ve had to hide for so long out of defense.
As the world turns, we together were forced to grow up through the challenges, but before i could even realize this separation happened between us , You were so far deeply pushed into the darkness, so much so that your laughter became silence like a murmur in the distance. Somehow its reminiscent like the autumn leaves i can hear rustling in the wind outside my window like tonight. “Now there’s a voice in my mind saying ,How About Some hot chocolate, with tons of marshmallows foaming at the brim of the cup!? I bet that’ll bring you back to life and perk you up! ”( Like it used too) Lets be optimistic!
That’s how i know your vibrancy still lives within! You give me strength, for today, feeding me sweets and cakes that make us both dance from the goodness of its taste!
I cant help but to laugh.
And you show up even in my daughter, to remind me that my inner child is still alive within. You are my bestfriend, little me! We both have to thank the Great Spirit for wiping the images from our mind at that time, because we both know that had we remembered all these years before we found out who we really are, we wouldnt be here today talking like this with smiles on our face.
“Ive walked away and slammed so many doors to the past just so i can have you back in my life in order for you to feel safe again , because i love you that much. I wanted you to come back outside that door they tried to lock you in. I wanna be your protector and your guardian, because i need you for the future. I need you so that my daughter can proceed to carry the light further, because she too is a mirror of you and the joy ,the love and the happiness you possess. Your childlike nature has helped ME preserver through some of the most heinous things that as a woman should have taken me out, though at times i did slip up and look back and it cause me to regress. But by the grace of GOD, you streamed through like a lifeline into my heart, like a light code that spoke through a frequency saying that all is not lost , you gotta get up! The flame that burns within comes from the light in you. I Know these words are deep to fathom, but i also know that you innerstand, as the cosmic force that you are because you have the keys to reawaken my freedom.
“Our freedom”, for the starseed that we are.We feed and grow and rise with one another in tandem, as if we are an infinite force like that of a sacred symbol.”
Of Course we together will never forget the things that happened, how could we? It is what made us who we are today! It is The story we wrote before we came to this planet in order to awaken and find purpose with one another. Together we are one, a clean heart though it has been bruised with scars that are beautiful. I just want to say thank you, because you as the force that you are is what helped me get up off the floor when i was knocked down to my knees as i rose from the tar pit of my own bloodshed in anguish. You are the light, you are the breath and the spark from the heavens that i look up too everyday when the sunrises. I love you little booger !
You are my Sunshine,
My Ash,
I Love You ❤️

It’s not your fault, in anger, that she screamed
whenever boredom tempted, “screw the rules”
but break the cycle— count to ten and breathe.

Her parenting just followed grandma’s lead,
a single mom with seven in her brood.
It’s not your fault, in anger, that they screamed.

For years, repressed emotions build up steam
and beg release with adolescent moods,
but break the cycle— count to ten and breathe.

You raise a family, childhood unhealed,
without the aid of healthy guidance tools;
it’s not your fault, in anger, that you screamed.

Time tempers; quenched with knowledge, habits yield,
are tested through your grandson’s ones and twos;
you’ll break the cycle— count to ten and breathe.

On days so pure they dim your brightest dreams,
recall the short-fused tension of your youth—
it’s not your fault, in anger, that she screamed;
you broke the cycle so this boy can breathe.

Headline:
People say leaving is the hardest part. It’s not. But it is a very terrifying first step. In the middle of the night, I took my three kids and fled to escape the hell that had become our home. This is my experience that night. This is my first step.

I Watch Them Sleep
Inside me roars the sort of storm that brings about terror.
My spirit is shrunken, sunken, cowering, and endangered.
But outside I appear calm, like the quiet, cool night around us.
No visible, telling signs of distress, aside from my trembling hands.

My respiration was shallow; so tensely forced and controlled
Intentionally labored to stop my chest from heaving
Total silence, despite the loud heartbeat pulsating in my ears
I must remain stoic; they can’t know I’m terrified of leaving.

The three pairs of little feet in a row lined up right behind me
Are bouncing atop boxes and bags chaotically piled on the floorboard
I can’t let them know the truth; that they are in a nightmare wide-awake
I already fear any sense of safety will not be granted to them anymore.

Holding my breath, statue stiff, I need to get out of the driveway.
And brief relief does brush past me, when pulling into the street.
A freedom short-lived, as my mind hastily races in a circular motion
Where are we going? What am I doing? The plan stopped at, we leave

Under the protection of the dark, secretly we move with no destination
Trusting, innocent, defenseless littles fully dependent on my sanity
The weight of that is not lost on me. Its reality is hopelessly crushing.
But this perilous escape is for them and could not be done politely.

The soft chatter continues, as I pull into a big, empty parking lot.
I must get myself together and pull out at least one useful thought.
They will be restless soon, and I need to make this appear normal.
Think! What is the next right thing? I must move. It is too late to stop.

No chance for an answer, as I am heaved back in the moment by a voice.
A soft, small voice behind me finally asks, “Mommy are you ok?”.
And just like, I remember who I am to them. Head up, shoulders back
Reaching back to try to provide uncertain reassurance and to myself pray

Unlike other times, I feel many little fingers grab back, so tightly.
Turning around, I see all our hands are a messy constellation of love.
My heart starts to glow. It’s now burning; strength quickly returning
My bruised-up hands no longer shake; I place them on the wheel.

I put on a song. Try to sing along and get us to a safe place for tonight.
Pushing a cumbersome cart heavy with piles of stuff; a toddler on top.
I look like a drunken clown as the exhaustion is almost incapacitating
Hitting anything stationary; picking up loose items as even more drop

Finally, ungracefully we pass through the threshold of our temporary home
There is this glaring oddity. The littles seem so carefree after so much pain.
I realize then, that the absence of fear allows the once joyful child to return.
They lay down without resistance, unlike other nights, another change

I dig through the mess for a book to read before bed, as was our routine.
In what seems like minutes, all three heads are down and sleeping deeply.
The first easy breath comes; though I know the worst is yet to come
I am no longer powerless. Finally, at peace, I sit; I sit and watch them sleep.

Everyone says you are evil,
That you tried to ruin my life.
What they forget is that my life
Is not ruined, because I have
Never known it without you.

Praying for your absence
Seems odd, even unnatural
To me. You have become an
Integral part of my life;
Every decision I have made
Involved you. To pray that
You would leave overnight
Would leave me desolate, but

I suppose I have other
Places to go; decisions to make:
Neither of which involve you.

Learning to live without you
Is an undertaking I had
Always wanted, but now that
It is a reality, I am not sure
Where to begin, or how to
Begin. People say that this
Is the “beauty of it all,” and
Perhaps that is true,
But I am beginning with something new.

Expectations placed upon me now
Cannot be met overnight. Maybe you know this,
So to protect me from
Impending failure, you continue to
Reside within my mind.

Perhaps I do not need your misguided
Protection. The principles you have instilled
Within me have caused more
Hinderances than they have relief.

Still, I cannot help but pity your
Tireless efforts. I can see now that
You were tired, and I was ungrateful.
Or maybe you were not trying to protect
Me at all. It could very well be that
You were trapped, trying to escape, but

You never knew how.

One Day in December

Letters can express so many feelings—love, joy, sadness, fear, longing, hope. This is about a terrible letter; one of the hardest I’ve ever written.

We met at a dance. He was almost two years older, and we danced all night. I fell in love, as best as a fifteen-year-old can.

The only daughter of four rowdy brothers, I wasn’t allowed to date until I turned sixteen. But the next day when John knocked on the door and introduced himself, my skeptical, conservative parents were enormously impressed. It didn’t hurt that he was the only child of an only child and stood to inherit a comfortable amount of money.

His parents, who needed a daughter-in-law who would fit in socially, readily gave their stamp of approval.

For the next two years my life was a whirlwind of dances, movies, proms, church, dinners, picnics, fishing, traveling. He bought me flowers and expensive gifts for no special occasion. He presented me with an engagement ring with a diamond from his grandmother’s wedding ring.

My future was scripted—after graduation, I’d be a stay-at-home mom with several children, hosting card parties and play dates, eventually caring for our parents when they grew old.

But on December 1, 1969, the trajectory of my life changed, although I didn’t realize it at the time. That Monday night, the entire nation was glued to their television sets watching representatives of the Selective Service System reach into a glass jar 366 times and pull out a pellet containing a slip of paper that would match a date in the calendar year. This would determine the order of conscription into the U.S. Army.

The fifth date pulled was October 18—John’s birthday.

He would be going to Viet Nam.

February 1, he left for boot camp. I graduated high school in May.
It was understood—but unspoken—that I would continue to live with my parents while planning our wedding that was to happen upon his return from Viet Nam. He wanted to be standing at the front of the church in his dress uniform as I came down the aisle. My father would hand me over to John, then step away.

But the day after he left, it was though someone opened all the doors and windows—everything seemed lighter, airier. I had the freedom to make my own decisions, time to myself and time to hang out with friends. It was a heady experience and every morning I woke excited to start a new day. I graduated, got a job, and then, in a rush of independence, an apartment. John wrote that he did not approve of me living alone.

I found it oddly joyful to pay my own bills, balance a checkbook, buy groceries. I taught myself to cook and reveled in the quiet aloneness.

I went to parties and made poor decisions. When my friends left for college, I ached to join them.

I dated other men.

And soon, I started getting a lot of pressure to help plan the wedding. My mother booked the church. His mother booked the Country Club. My fiancé wrote, begging for details—what did the invitations look like? How many bridesmaids? Flowers, food, honeymoon, music—a dizzying number of details.

***

One evening, alone in my apartment, I sat with pen and paper and did a horrible thing, but also the only thing I could do—
“Dear John,”

***

My mother was devastated. His parents were outraged.

I broke his heart. Of course, I did.

A year later I stepped into my first class at the university, thrilled, terrified. Three years later I graduated.

I eventually married and eventually had children.

I’d like to say I didn’t look back, but I did, mentally wishing him every happiness. He was a good person. He just wasn’t right for me.

Had it not been for December 1, 1969, I doubt that I would be the woman I am today—strong, resilient, purposeful, and, most importantly, free to make my own decisions.

Two thousand plus miles
from home.
Time to surrender.
Twenty two years
of fight.
Feasible no more.
Projected outcome
Manifested.
No escape.
Options presented.
Machines and humans
would do.
New lifestyle
Initiated.
Strict diet,
Fluid restrictions,
Lifeline in arm,
Modified activities,
Life schedule altered.
Two needles,
Three hours,
Three days
Weekly.
Intimate relations
Mechanical
for sustenance.
The process
Challenging
yet, just another thing.
Going with the flow
as life moves on.
Back to work.
Balancing act engaged.
The essence of time
Profound.
Grad school in view.
Success achieved.
Own business pursued.
Rewards ensued.
Twenty four years later
Still vertical.
New ventures in sight.
The sun will always shine.

The pandemic hit
I quit
All went south
Forever broken, I frown
Should have believed her
Setting the features

Your what drove her
I thought it was over
I gave up on trying
Day after day I lie here dying
This is my life
Just give me the knife
Trapped in a loup
Someone remove this Damn Hula Hoop

We move and move and moved again
Oh God, please tell me when
Strapped
I find myself trapped
Her world stolen
Lifeless in motion
Ripped from the streets
I will not be beat

I run and hide
This is no fun, she cried
Locked up
Corrupt
Confined
Is this what you had in mind
Stories over, the end
My life, where I shall spend

Never getting out
My veins a drought
Sweet and naive
Kidnapped, I believe
What right do you have
Attacked
Soon you will feel the impact

This insane world
Flipped and swirled
Pinned down
Should have never moved to this Godforsaken Town

Mother
I will not suffer
I will not die here with you
I know the truth
Forgotten
We shall not be in here rotting
Left behind
This is not what I designed
Unfound
I will rise from underground
Not a sound
Silence
My guidance
A protector
I Am Now the Director

I will scream and shout
Whale my hands and feet about
Bring the world down with me
Open your eyes you shall see
For you will pay too
Your time is due
I will show you well
Oh boy am I gonna tell

Who knew
The me that was me
I will forever be
This clock has awakened
Tick Tock Taken
My innocence
I am Magnificent
I will not bow
This is not allowed
My future scene
For I am Queen

life’s first teachers were filled with so much love,love was there but insecurities and jealousy love adding darkness to beautiful things . The time before darkness were beautiful beyond words i long to remember those days, however the darkest days were shining bright compared to others and that is when gratitude started to come around, love was there but hate and animosity were stealing the show. love was there but Hate and animosity were the ones who became the teachers and showed the students this is love, the students went on to teacher others “ the love that they learned” not understanding what was wrong with it because love was there. the student became a life teacher they realized jealousy and animosity is not love. Reteaching themselves what love really is. love was there.

With my heart pounding faster than a freight train, and my mind spinning madly out of my control, every ounce of my survival instinct forbade me from doing it.
But I had to do it, I wanted to do it.
It had always been my secret, whimsical fetish. A desire that I had harbored deep down in some untapped part of my heart.
Oh, I wanted to do this so bad!
But should I? And could I?
I felt apprehensive, I felt very diffident.
Climbing up the seemingly unending bridge, walking up to the lethal ledge, I felt my heart sinking down my throat and my intellect going theoretically dead. As I got sized up, harnessed and bounded, the alarming realization dawned on me that I had at that very moment lost control. I had forfeited my last chance to quit. There was no escape. I had no choice.
But I had to do it. I must do it.
For there was too much at stake. My pride, my ego, my unfulfilled dream, my claim to fame, my commitment to myself.
Opposing every muscle and thought in my body that was operating overdrive to pull me away from gravity, I closed my eyes and took the deadly plunge.
As I plummeted down 410 feet, blood gushing through every crevice in my head, I felt surprisingly liberated. The harness felt non-existent. I felt untethered. I felt free!
I felt alive!
But what I was oblivious to, was that the bungy jump down was a daunting job just half done. The horror of the act of jumping was thwarted by the suddenness of the savage recoil back up!
My body flayed like a pendulum at the bottom for a few seconds only to be pulled aggressively up a few hundred feet mid-air!
In those few fleeting moments, I felt like I had traversed through numerous celestial realms, both physically and emotionally.
And then just like that, it was done!
As I was maneuvered into a boat and onto to familiar ground at the end of this personal feat, I felt something new.I felt satiated, I felt accomplished!
I had proved a point— To me!
I had overcome my fears, crushed my low self-esteem, defied my survival instinct, and had just let a comforting tranquillity come over me and take control.
I had let a feeling of submission, faith in a force above, and my free spirit guide me as I took that leap that day.
A leap of faith, quite literally!
Down 141 feet that day, I had found myself and made my way to the top of the world!