Dear World,

You ever look up, squint at a cloud, and think: “eh, 3/10?” Yeah. That’s me now. That’s my blossoming.

I’ve become a self-proclaimed cloud critic.
Every Sunday, I lie on a patch of grass behind the volleyball pit outside my building and review clouds like they’re auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. That one? “Too try-hard.” This one? “Soft edges, tragic backstory, 4.5 stars.” The one just floating past there? “It’s giving… raccoon in therapy.” I have a Notes file titled Sky Stuff. People stare. I wave like royalty.

At first it was a joke. Something to do when I didn’t know what to do with myself. But then it became a ritual. A quiet kind of devotion.

Because clouds don’t ask to be perfect. They show up, they shapeshift, they fall apart mid-performance and still drift like it means something.

I think I’m learning to do the same.

Style Score: 66%

For the longest time, I’ve had a fear of being perceived. When I noticed anyone noticing me, I would freeze. Whatever I was doing would cease. This would continue on until I reached my twenties. Having many gifts of expression can become overwhelming because you aren’t sure of where to start.
Since I was a child, I have always had a love of writing, singing and movement. I treated each of these journeys as a singular path, not truly realizing how connected all of my skills were in the world of the arts. I would sing with my sister, Imani, into the late hours of the night. Imani would come home from school and teach me the skills she learned in vocal training.
Although I was a writer, I didn’t understand the concept of songwriting. I was fluid in the art of writing short stories, poems, and essays. The concept of songwriting used to make my head ache. I would begin thinking too much about the structure of the song, the melody and the lyrics. It all seemed a difficult skill to master. Until I met someone that gave me an opportunity to create something new. He asked if I wanted to create my very own musical EP.
It was time to put myself to the challenge and treat this as I would any writing assignment. It was necessary to dial down the doubts playing in my mind. When I selected the instrumentals, the words flowed effortlessly. By allowing myself to flow and not worry about mistakes, I discovered how creative I could be.
My inner dialogue improved as I allowed myself to embark on this newer journey. Treat yourself as you would treat your favorite person in the world. I began reading more books that supported having a healthier mind. By taking the time to observe my own thoughts and making adjustments has been the reason I could say yes to trying songwriting.
I had to switch my mindset to listen to the music and the melody the way a singer would. It felt like I dialed into a radio station while listening to the beats simultaneously. I began hearing lyrics and a fresh flow for each track. It was at this moment I realized I was allowing myself to flow. Once I solidified how I wanted everything to sound, I got into the studio and recorded each song.
Although the journey has just begun, I truly am grateful for where this has led me so far. I have met quality people that share in my love of art and music. This new chapter in my life is called Bloom.

Pro Writing Score:100%

Early spring is bringing tiny green leaves to the tips of your twigs.

Last year we planted you. We were so proud of your place in our yard. Big plans and juicy apples were expected, but then a plague of deer came and ate all the budding, baby apples you had sprouted. Deer ate many of your leaves, too.

We were devastated.

As the end of winter approached and you looked so frail, we worried you might not make it to year two. All sticks and no style, you looked weak after months of cold and snow and ice and wind.

You survived. You may still thrive.

We have a plan to hide your apples this year, to try and save them from the many savage deer that will come for your tasty fruit. My wife read that one inventive gardener hangs Christmas tree decorations, red and green bulbs, on the branches of her apple trees. The deer try their best to bite them, but they are quickly made frustrated when they can’t break through. They give up and get going. We will try this trick this year.

Our dreams for you are blossoming as you grow, and we hope you will sprout apples as spring turns to summer.

We will water around you daily. You are in a sunny spot. We will protect you from your predators.

All signs point to Pink Lady apples in the future.

Godspeed.

ProWritingAid Style Score: 76

Life has felt aggressively slow,
As if time has a personal vendetta on my goal.
I lay in bed as the sun glow,
These four walls are taking a physical toll.
My inner voice turns my bed into quick sand,
But I refuse to let my thoughts have the winning hand.
I step outside and I breathe in peace,
I step towards everything that I have planned.
Sweat beads down my face as I walk,
My breathe is strained and I can barely talk.
A bird just flew by and made a low coo,
The beauty in its feathers are bold and true.
I’m glad I decided to get out of the bed this morning,
It really takes one step at a time, I’m learning.
My thoughts of failure still reside,
But I am stronger now so I push them to the side.
I am not able to do much in this season,
For financial, credit and many other reasons.
But what I can do is take another step,
And do everything I can to prep;
For what is owed and was stolen from me,
Will be replenished in my pocket’s times three.
I step again as I struggle to breathe,
I step again away from everything I need to leave.
The passing cars, the beading sun, that gust of wind,
Reminders that a slow life is a luxury and a forever win.
I don’t want to live life focused on the next success,
I want to live life walking away from unnecessary stress.
Another step makes my lungs wheeze,
Another step makes my legs freeze.
I pause where I stand, and reach out my hand.
Towards a rose that blossomed from a bush.
I wrap my hands around the stem and give it a little push.
The thorns are sharp and my hands depart,
As the rose rest back in its place.
So, I leave it right there and continue on my pace,
Because peace and beauty needs its space.
Better understanding for what I need is blossoming this spring,
I tread on my walk and smile at everything life is about to bring.

Style score: 70%

A whisper runs through my mind,
Timid and scared.
While I stare on blankly,
Pretending I’m not there.
A thought tickles lips,
In need of fresh air.
While I stare on blankly,
Wishing to be spared.
Small sounds tumble loose,
Braver than before.
I’m no longer staring blankly,
Though the chokehold has all but won.
Thunder fills my chest,
As I look at what’s begun.
There’s fire in my eyes,
As I fight to stay undone.
The whip cracks,
As I strike out with words.
I’m stronger than I thought,
While I turn back for none.

Style Score 100%

I used to fold myself small—
into silence, into compliance, into whatever shape felt safest. I masked my truth because the world told me it was “too much.” Too loud. Too different. Too complicated. Too me.

But here’s how I’m blossoming:

I am no longer asking for permission to exist as I am.

I wear what feels right on my body. I speak in the ways my brain works. I stim without apology. I teach without pretending to be “neutral.” I write books that disrupt the systems that once tried to erase me. I’m reclaiming space—not just in rooms, but in the narrative itself.

This isn’t a soft bloom. It’s messy and raw and defiant.
But it’s mine.

And I’m not shrinking back.

Sincerely,
Someone finally growing in her own direction

My life has fell apart.
Like the the trees in the fall
But just like the spring
Time, here comes the growth
Spirt. New branches reaching the crown,
New leaf’s Blossoming,
Dancing and blowing freely
While the winds get a Lil breezy.
Standing a Lil taller, feeling
A bit wiser, new heights have been
Reached. Now I’m starting to branch out.
In other words, I’m networking.
Using different platforms
To express my growth & release my pain,
That has been felt with my brain.
Not to brag and boast but
To allow others to Blossom & grow.

My confidence blooms like spring’s first rose, once shy, now proud in the glow of a crowd, no longer afraid to radiate beauty, to walk a runway of my design,where compliments swirl and lift me high. My confidence is blossoming

I celebrate every curve, small or bold, fit or unique—each tells a tale of triumph and journey, riding the waves of doubt, held up by whispers of strength that flow through my veins. My confidence is blossoming

Looking in the mirror, I see more than just a reflection; I find the worth I’ve gathered—golden threads woven from resilience, a tapestry of self-love, unfolding in vivid strokes. My confidence is blossoming

I’ve met my detractors with a smile, letting my worth become my answer, each check I cash, a silent rebuke to those who said I couldn’t stand tall. My confidence is blossoming

Grateful, I bask in the light, no more clinging to shadows of comparison,for even in storms, I shine through, humbled yet fierce in my embrace of the confidence that continues to bloom—each petal a testament, each moment a celebration of the radiant being I’ve become. My confidence is blossoming

Unassuming, she bides her time,
slumbers curled in on herself,
potentiality’s vibrations encapsulated,
resonance her twilight lullaby.
Dawn breaks warm,
night’s chill melting away,
absorbed as nourishment;
she stretches languidly,
testing the confines of her quilt,
unfurls pink and fresh and strong,
face to sun; rising, ready,
sweet perfume on autumn air.

Style Score: 100

New years are meant for starting over
Beginning clean and new
Unless you’re of the queer persuasion
And your government’s against you
Then blossoming becomes a struggle
As you strain simply to bloom,
Crushed under heels of persecution
Swept under rug by bigoted broom
The seeds we sow in ‘25
Require roots down deep, robust
If we’re to thrive and survive,
Under a dictator we can’t trust
To blossom sounds lovely indeed
But queer friends we must burst,
Break barriers and far exceed
Hoping for best, planning for worst

89%

For the longest time, my garden was in a drought

Sometimes I thought I wasn’t meant to grow

Every time I had a drip of success, I would not follow up with more

Inconsistent, not believing I can achieve anything

Having limited beliefs kept me at a level only I could seeI guess eye level, some would say to me,

The sum (some) was the voices of doubt in my head

Subtracting my motivation having divided on what should I do

Leaving me feeling empty with no rest in sight multiple times

That was a fraction of the time, actually that was most of the time

Alright, it was like 99.9%

The whole time (100%) well, the entire time I would lie to everyone, including

My-self, I that was fine

But II’ve could not hide the sadness in my eyes

Blur vision from the tears I’ve cried behind closed doors

Now look at me, blossoming, me

Before I felt the thrones on my side until I rose to the occasion

Poured into myself, not letting those seeds of ego and pride get me down

Having loved one’s check on my progress when I would forget to water my plant

Boundaries allowed me to finally love me and set the standard of what I will and won’t tolerate

It changed my life

As I am writing this piece, I cried

But I used these tears to grow the confidence in me, the unwavering belief in me

I got this

Only I can stop this and won’t stop until I am at the top of whatever I want to accomplish

-Load the car and write the note-

Moving out was terrifying. I enjoyed the first few weeks in my apartment alone.
I was rarely alone when I was with my ex. I depended on him. To get to school, to get to work, to get to rehearsal, to eat, to have a place to sleep, etc, etc. I had to pay a price for all of that. Nothing comes for free.

-Grab your bag and grab your coat-

I remember leaving his house for the last time. I packed that morning as fast as humanly possible. I forgot a lot of things. He kept begging me not to leave, I kept begging to go. I got dressed in my own clothes for the first time in a hot minute. Normally I just grabbed his because mine were always trapped behind the headboard.
I didn’t know it was the last. His hand curved into my inner thigh, the country road we had driven on for nearly two years rolled by until it disappeared into the highway. He dropped me off and my parents greeted him warmly, and hugged him and I think I realized then I hated him.

-Tell the ones that need to know-

My best friend and I got together a little after I got home so I could tell them everything about my ex and I.
And this guy I just met.

Their mouth was agape the whole conversation. I told them I didn’t think my ex was a bad guy, Cole said that was because I haven’t experienced a good one yet.I told them about this guy I met and there was hope in their eyes.

What if this guy was lulling me in with false promises like everyone else before?

-We are headed north.-

We broke up. He left me. I finally reached out to this guy and… the rest is just confetti.

-One foot in and one foot back-

I open up a little just to resend everything I just said. I’ve been told before that I’m “too much” and yet somehow, “not good enough,” at the same time.

I had two people I adored when I was growing up. They were my best friends. They weren’t the best of friends.

One of them called my self harm scars “stupid people scars.” Said I was only doing it for attention, though I never intended for anyone to see them. If I wanted to be effective I should just full-send it and make the little white lines vertical. I opened up to him only for him to say I was too much and that I was crazy and occasionally throw it back in my face.

-But it don’t pay to live like that-

When we were in high school, he caught my ex hitting me, he stepped in and tried to get me out.
When I was going through the worst of my disordered eating habits, he bought me food and sat with me.
He confused me. I believed in my heart he loved me. I still do. I think he just didn’t know how to love right. When he met his boyfriend and they fell in love, I think the two of them learned from one another. They’re still very happy together in their own place. We don’t talk, but, the last time we did, he said that he hopes I get everything I want out of life. And that he’ll be there. His boyfriend and him are planning to get engaged.
I think my boyfriend and I could be like that.

-So I cut ties and I jumped the track-

When we stopped talking, my best friend and I got closer and I got happier. Stress about extracurriculars and homework was all I had to worry about. Life was good. My senior year of highschool was one of my favorite periods of my life.
The other is right now.

-Never to return-

-Oh, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in-

I met my boyfriend at a summer camp. We were both counselors. The counselors were all talking about this, that and the other. I initially wanted to get out of there, but this guy I had just met started talking about video games designed to be difficult.
I was on a Fear and Hunger kick, I hoped he would know the game. He didn’t. He said it reminded him of another game, I said that it reminds of a book, and so on and so on.
Suddenly thirty minutes pass and I’m sitting on the table in the makeup room talking candidly about life, books, video games and art with someone who might as well have been a stranger. But I was hooked.

He looked at me with a kind of recognition that you don’t see terribly often. Like he already knew me. The strange thing was, I felt like I knew him too.

-Are you aware of the shape I’m in?-

When I started having panic attacks at camp, I was fucking embarrassed. I had kept my composure in front of strangers all my life, until right then.

He came in— and I guess he wasn’t really a stranger. He coaxed me through it, though anxiously because he was paranoid about how people would take it. Us— in a room— completely alone.
I could not help that I was drawn to him. I let him see that I was not infallible. I felt closer to him every second we spent together.

Is that wrong of me?

-My hands, they shake, my head, it spins-

We were watching the play at Pocket Sandwich Theater and I knew I needed to make that leap. Just to take his hand.
My brain kept screaming this could just be another game. He could be saying all these sweet words and writing all these beautiful poems just to lure me in.

It wouldn’t be the first time. My first boyfriend told me his dream was to be a teacher with me, and that students would think we were adorable.
He told me after we had been dating for nearly a year that his dream was to take my virginity.

My most recent ex told me his dream was to go to Chicago and be a famous actor, and to have me waiting at the stage door for him.
But what about my stage door? Would he have ever shown up?

But my heart was so sure with this guy what I wasn’t sure with the others.
I could actually see a couple years ahead. It was messy and a little undefined, but the vision was there.

I took his hand. The momentary shock as my fingers laced around his, those beautiful grey and blue eyes widened like I had done something unfathomable.
The smile he gave me, as he wrapped his other hand around ours.

-Oh, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in-

-When at first I learned to speak-

My mother said I learned to talk before I walked. My first word— well to be more accurate it was a sentence.
“Where is it?”
Ironic with my ADHD.

-I used all my words to fight-

I was a terrible person as a middle schooler. I was filled with rage and hormones and everything that I once knew changed.
I was filled with depression that I didn’t understand was depression.

I pushed my friends as far as they would go. I felt so guilty every time that I’d grovel and apologize. Rinse. Repeat. Suddenly not a little girl anymore. I hated myself. My friends didn’t understand. I hated them too.

I bullied, and I seethed, and I said things that I should have never thought, much less said. Much less believed to be true.

-Ah, but it’s just a waste of time-

My best friend and I went to a cabin out in the country for their birthday.
One night, we sat in the bed, and we cried. I apologized for everything I had done when I was a middle schooler. They did too.
We hugged.

-Yeah, it’s such a waste of time-

-Three words that became hard to say-

Fear is a nasty thing. Anxiety and depression too. It’s unfair that your own mind can want to not be alone, yet force you to be lonely. Then yell at you for it.

“I need help.”

Those became so hard.

“I miss you.”

I say those often to a lot of different people. My friends back home, my kids, my boyfriend. I miss them all, truly.

-I and Love and You-

I struggled to say it to my boyfriend when I knew I should’ve. It happened at the right moment that’s true and I’m very grateful for how perfect that first moment was. But—

There was a night where we were playing Minecraft together and I almost said it.

He was so excited about the house. He noticed all the little red details I put everywhere for him. He said no one had ever put such thought into surprising him with something.
I almost said, “it’s because I love you, duh.”
But I didn’t.

-I and Love and You-

I wanna be able to look in the mirror and not examine it. I want to see my features and smile.
I want to enjoy my face reflecting back at me.
I want to like it, to the point that I don’t even acknowledge it.

This morning I got up to take a shower before class. I peeled off my boyfriend’s shirt, and neatly folded it next to the sink. I looked up to grab a hair tie and—

I liked the way my body looked. I like the curvature of my waist, the shape of my breasts, the way my hair fell behind my shoulders even though it was a bit unkempt.

I liked my face. That’s the hard thing to like about myself. As an actor you spend so much of your time examining and painting your face. As an autistic person, I used to practice making facial expressions in the mirror to look more natural. I am so used to my face. Normally, I try to avoid staring at it.
But I looked at the color of my eyes, their asymmetrical shape, the fullness of my lashes—
I looked at my lips, redder and a bit drier than normal, they’re always a little more red after my boyfriend leaves cause his scruff scratches me—
I looked at my nose, I usually hate it. But today I thought, “I look nice.”

I think— I think everyday I get closer to it. Not by much, and it’s never consistent but it has happened more and more as the years go by.

I’m so close to looking in the mirror and saying it.

-I and Love and You-

My baby girl
With bouncing curls
You are the light of my life
Day and night
You bring sunshine and smiles everywhere you go
My heart aches with how much I love you so
I don’t know where I’d be
If there were no you and me
I can’t imagine a life without you
I honestly don’t know what I do
I’m so lucky to watch you grow
I love you more than you’ll ever know

In 2013, something horrid happened to me. It didn’t happen to just me, or affect me the most. It was a betrayal that left me and my children unsafe.

For years, I disregarded how this affected me as I focused on how it affected others I love. How it affected me became a small side story. So, for years, I didn’t bother acknowledging my personal hurt. I had huge obligations to assist others through their journey toward ok-ness. Those others are my children.

What happens then, if there is no ok-ness for me? I’m about to tell you.

The first thing was tears. It was about ten months of tears every night. By myself, alone. For all of us. In waves. During the day, I was raising kids. At night, I was grieving my wounds and losses.

Next came denial. Maybe we can live with this? After all, we aren’t dead and it’s surely been misery, but what’s the way out of misery? Others I loved chose denial, and it seemed to work for them. Some who got hurt are still using denial to cope.

One day, like a lifting fog, I realized denial costs too much. Almost immediately, intense anger replaced my denial.

It’s exhausting to be perpetually angry. Being the body of all-consuming anger is only useful if it leads to justice, and, sadly, it didn’t.

Numbness replaced the anger. God faded into meaninglessness. Emotions faded from red to pastel pink. The duty to continue to exist remained, and that was all I could manage.

For years.

For a decade.

I became a pale version of myself. I could function, raise kids, held down a complicated job. I paid my mortgage and took showers and cooked meals and taught my kids skills to live. Kind of.

If I could have been a better version of myself, I could have taught them more than the bits I managed. I guess I taught them to persevere. The struggle became normal. I thought I had pulled it off, this existing after horror gig. I believed I had healed. What I had actually done was to mute emotions and function in logic as a self protective mechanism. It was very effective; I felt functional. I had emotions, I just vetted them. Numbness was surviving. I felt safe enough to go on.

It took 11 1/2 years for me to fully face my healing. Finally, I could leave safe logic and dulled existence on the table to pursue a little authentic joy.

At first it was scary to feel emotions with some intensity. Emotions can lie! Slowly I let them lead me to some old loves: baking, drawing, building, painting, sewing, exploring, dancing, writing. Can I do it? For myself? And can I survive feeling it? Can I forge trusting relationships with others? Can I trust myself? The world is again wild with color, after so many years of color washed out by pain. Will I choose healing or familiar pain?

Not every day goes too well. Some days I retreat. This healing journey will take more time. But now, instead of hiding behind logic, I use creativity to process life, to feel myself heal, to be alive.

This is like waking from a trance. It is stepping back into my authentic self after an absence.

It is nice to recognize the person inside; although I am much older and much more worn, I have a hard fought value. I am here.

Style score 100%

I don’t really have to think what is blossoming in my life, 2025 is a growing year, You have a Drive that while you have BAD DAYS, yet You push on, You are working on Starting Your tire shop after hours and it’s GOING TO BE AMAZING, you DON’T QUIT, This year is Your year and GREATLY things are happening from a Dodge charger ( hemi motor) to your business will be running within a few months) The clowns are taking off , Who knows what else is going to happen, NOW is my time.

Dear Romeo,

Since you’ve been gone, all I can think about is what you taught me. I am so
grateful to have learned so many life lessons from you. You were my best
friend and almost my lover too. Here is some of your best advice:
● Don’t dress like an elf (even though I still have my elf shoes, I
coordinate them now . . . most days anyway).
● Don’t hang up the phone without saying a proper goodbye and giving
the other person a chance to do the same.
● Don’t dance to music ridiculously; appreciate it.
● Appreciate items genuinely when someone lets you borrow them and
make sure to give them back.
● Be extra patient with the people you love.
● Be thankful and grateful for the little things and smallest of gifts.
● Learn by doing.
● Get sincerely excited when something awesome is happening (like
being at a Flogging Molly concert)
● Love the planet, protect it, and stand up for it, even if you fail.
● Go to the places you have always dreamed of going, and do the things
you have always dreamed of doing.
● Appreciate great music (metal bands like Of Mice and Men, Attila,
beautiful bands like Pretty Lights, and some goofy 80’s and 90’s bands
like New Kids on the Block)
● Always make time for the people you love.
● Be yourself and don’t worry about impressing people.
● Love the quiet spots of home (Beans Bottom, the pump house, etc.)
● Never feel like you have to deal with anything alone. Those who love
you the most will never let that happen.
Your Best Friend,

Dad,

It’s been six years. Six years of living with a pain I knew was inevitable. With the inevitability of it, one could hope to prepare but the magnitude of your presence made that impossible and I knew that too.

For twenty-three years, you were the best dad. As cliché as it may sound, you were. A single parent to a strong willed, sharp tongued little girl, or as most would say, just plain mean, you ensured I had everything I needed, patience, love, and understanding…along with the material things. Looking back, your resourcefulness is astounding. I remember you calling into radio stations, winning tickets to see ballet troupes such as, Les Ballet Africains or concert tickets for groups like the Wailers. You wanted to expose me to as much as possible. I had the privilege of going everywhere with you, including your job. Every day. By the time, I was fourteen, I had traveled to over fifteen states, and none of your colleagues would be surprised to see me at your annual conferences. You put me in tennis and dance classes, and would stay up all night helping me with homework and consistently gave me satirical approaches to biased essay assignments.

While everything you did for me was remarkable, your exceptional character left the indelible mark. Being an educator and organizer, I observed you at many podiums. The well being of people was your priority. It was exhibited in you letting your students borrow your personal laptop so they could complete assignments and in your organization of events attended by thousands fighting against injustices. You were known for closing out conversations, meetings, and speeches by saying ‘Forward!’ The full version being, ‘Forward Forever! Backward Never!’

Growing up, I had an acute awareness that you likely would not live an extensive life due to the work you did and the society we live in. I constantly stressed about how I would live in a world without you. I would remind myself that wasn’t my reality, ‘cross that bridge once we arrive’ and I hoped to never get there, but then you were diagnosed with cancer at stage 4 and after fighting several years, we arrived at that bridge.

I’ll never forget being the one to tell you and I apologize for not delivering the news with the tenderness I know you would’ve if the roles were reversed. Three weeks. That was the prognosis. In the proceeding days, I grabbed a pen and yellow pad, but that wasn’t enough. I opened the voice notes app on my phone and pressed record, prepared to soak up as much knowledge as I could. Most of my questions were met with an “I don’t know.” I was frustrated but I recognized that while you were dying you didn’t have the ability to write the story of how I would live. You never did. You always told me my life was mine. At the end of the day, I had to be happy. “I don’t know” wasn’t the only answer I got that day to my endless list of questions. You also told me to maintain my principles and when asked what I should keep in mind at all times when life got hard and I needed you, you said remember all the happy moments. I didn’t know what to do with that or so I thought.

About a month after you passed, I reached out to the advisor of the academic journal for my graduate program about returning to the editorial board for which I had served as an editor the year prior. I was simply asking if I needed to apply to the position again. It was fun and I was no longer a caregiver so I figured I didn’t have a reason not to. I received an unexpected response; she emailed back letting me know that she would like to discuss me becoming the next co-editor-in-chief. Given my social anxiety, I thought the logical response would be to respectfully decline like I did the undergraduate valedictorian speech where you were quietly disappointed. There was no way I could oversee a board of my peers and be a primary voice in publishing a publication that reflected them along with an academic institution, but I knew to identify the voice that was saying I couldn’t, fear. You always repeated the quote “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself. ” So, despite my fears, I took the position. I asked us to define our objective because everything should be done with a purpose. Most importantly, it should be done together. You taught me that the world should be left a better place than we found it. We should leave something for the next generation to build off. The only way we leave something substantial is by working together so I blurred the lines of editors, managing editors, and co-editors-in-chief ensuring that all decisions were made collectively and objectively. You encouraged and nurtured critical thought. “You need to think at all times.” I remember that coming to me the night before our most important meeting where our shortlist would be finalized and I jokingly thought ‘what interesting ideas would be mentioned to increase readership that weren’t in line with our objective’ so I could prepare. However, I ended up coming up with an idea that did align with our objective, to have a panel at the annual research symposium, which the board was excited to create. A month before we published, I received another unexpected email, I was the co-recipient of one of the department’s annual awards, for making the greatest contribution to the student association and publication. They went on to detail what I mentioned above. My goal in defining our objective, fostering a democratic environment, and developing ideas for growth wasn’t to win an award but lead the creation of a body of work people could be proud of. Not just those actively working on it but those who entered the program after us. That was you.

Three years later, I was seeking a job opportunity where I could grow and develop my skills. I came across a position at a prestigious university. For once in my life, I didn’t overthink it. I applied. During my third interview, walking around the campus, the interviewer asked if I thought I could oversee a student staff of seventy people. Without hesitation, I said “yes.” So much so, he responded, “yes?” and I reaffirmed. In that moment, I honestly shocked myself. Before eventually accepting the position, the largest staff I oversaw was that of about twenty people. I didn’t know how I would do it successfully. How I would make sure they not only succeeded in their responsibilities of the position but I nurtured their talents and skills in preparation of them entering the real world, how I would lead meetings, present to large audiences and stakeholders on their behalf. Nine months into the position, on my birthday, I got a text message, a two-minute video of more than twenty students sending well wishes and saying thank you. Two months later when our seniors graduated, I received messages and cards expressing similar gratitude.

I thought I didn’t know how to live in a world without you, but in continuing to just move forward, one step at a time, I think I do. Thank you.

Love,

Dear Family Friend,

It’s been a while since I last wrote you a thank you note or any letter.

It’s not even ten years since you went to the After Life.

In the beginning, I would never have considered you and your sister becoming our friends of the family since we had nothing in common. But life is full of great surprises.

My brother and I still remember when I put my big life-size plush dog in the coat closet to jump at you when you opened the door. And then you did the payback of putting him in the bathtub behind the shower curtain for me to jump back. Good one!

It was lovely of you to cut your long auburn hair and donate it to make wigs for kids with cancer. I never realized how thick it was. I still treasure my long hair, but intend to donate it one day in your honor.

When having your first grandson, you kept saying “I’m too young to be a grandma!”, as one in her forties. Soon enough, you would not stop talking about him and showing many baby pictures. I almost wanted to poke fun at the fact that you weren’t ready to be a grandma beforehand. I’m so glad now I kept quiet——it was one of your most joyous times, a month before the diagnosis.

I know everyone has habits, and sometimes can’t help it. Yet, this was one of those times that I hated smoking.

Because you loved my handmade items, you asked that I knit you a purple hat with the light yellow cancer ribbon attached. I always knew that I would knit hats for cancer patients. But never thought the first was to be for a friend.

When you had the strength to visit, you proudly displayed the hat I made. Then, you took it off to show your bald head that once held the short thick auburn hair. I knew that the hair was gone. I only stood there, emotionless, mind blank. With your hand on my shoulder, from hazel eyes to brown eyes, you said “It’s going to be alright. I’m fine.”

You needed to say that for yourself than for me at the time. You wanted courage. You never want us to worry or fret.

For months, it looked like you would beat it. In the end, cancer beat the chemo. Only months left. There was nothing to do.

You and your family got to watch over my cat, for the last time, She sure liked you since she was a kitten. I believe she knew you were going away, because she wasn’t energetic, and didn’t want to play for six weeks… as if she were in her way of mourning.

It was a stormy, summer Sunday when you left.

Your memorial service was very colorful. Your “Wizard of Oz” collection is on display, some items for auction (so to take your ashes to New York since you wanted to go there), with cookies and donuts, and many of the firefighters there as friends of yours. And it’s like you are playing the last prank by being late to your funeral! (They forgot to take your ashes to the altar!)

You always admired anything made by me and my brother. You said that if any of us became famous, you would love a personal autograph. Your sister and you were among the few who believed in us. Sometimes, I feel survivor’s guilt since you aren’t here to see our success or published work based on your encouragement and support. It will even be harder in the years to come.

Yet, you never would want me to live a life that isn’t mine. You wouldn’t want me to pity or be easily discouraged, not even let me live the simple life, knowing I wouldn’t be happy to live that way. You would want me to unlock all the creativity from my mind to change the world!

So far, your sister stopped working in the cleaning business and now works alongside children with special needs.

My brother is still in love with filming and has worked on a few fun projects.

You would have loved to meet my husband. He’s very sweet, supportive, and has some jokes and pranks up his sleeve from time to time like the rest of us.

As for me, I’ve been working on my handmade items for a future business, but have my hands full in writing projects. Each one step closer to something more to fulfill the long-time dream.

We all miss, and think of you, often. I know that whatever my life will be, you will shout and cheer me on. I will see you again one day, friend.

Plenty of days
In plenty of ways
I never thought
I had to live without
The woman who birth me
Continuously struggling
With her absence
Trying to put the pieces back together
Rebuilding my life
Without my mom
To witness my success
And the failures
I had to overcome
Without her keen talks
To cheer me up
Makes me feel sad and blue
I yearn for her voice
Her smile
Her laugh
Her presence
That’s why I always tell people
Cherish your mom
‘Cause losing her
You can never get another
Just memories to last forever
Besides my Bae, family and close friends
Being a source of inspiration
My mom is honestly the driving force
Behind my tenacity
She taught me the importance of
Hard work and dedication
She was amazing at everything she did
She got opportunities to live her life
As she saw fit
Much of her is in me
I’m her twin
Many can tell by just looking at me
In life and in death
My mom continues to show me
I can do all that I set out to do
No matter what I’m doing
Or what I’m going through
I take a moment or two
To reflect:
What will mommy do?
What will mommy say?
All the while reminding myself
That she is 1 of the reasons
That I am who I am
I’m forever grateful
For my Granny and Grandpa
God rest their souls
‘Cause without them
There will be no Margot
So I’m forever thankful
For her legacy
Now it’s time to create mines
Mama, I will make you proud‼️