What was it she was supposed to do again? Breathe. Count. Crouch down, head between knees. She could hear Dr. V’s voice, but it wasn’t registering. Her head was spinning, and she was breathing way faster than she knew she should. She just wanted to get home
That evening, I saw his red-hot anger, and for some reason, that pacified me and made the whole experience worth it.
Kwesi was a beautiful black baby right on that first day. He was also a happy baby.
In my small mind, Nana was the only one who loved me. Oh, how she loved me!
Not every day deep conversations and serious life. And even though you are a successful woman, you don’t make me feel as if you do not need me. You let me know that you do… And for me, it feels really good to be needed, and wanted… Especially if it’s not just for sex or for money. I love that you make me feel wanted in every other way!”
Because I’ve been there and done that and I’m tired. I have fought before – multiple times in fact. Because I was young and in love, and I thought that love alone was enough. But it always ended terribly. And I was always left wondering why I wasn’t good enough.
Mama, to hell with our so-called culture if it’s going to take away my happiness! Isn’t it this same backward culture that wanted you to drink Ol’man’s bath water after he died? Or the same culture that said you had to spend the night with the corpse??
Some days are easier. Today has been so difficult. But somehow, I feel as if you sent Mawuli to make it more bearable. He did a good job.
My world of beautiful vibrant color was suddenly a big drab black and white, and I didn’t know how to fix it!
I can’t do it anymore. I cannot be strong enough for me and for her. And if fear she can’t do it either! Is there a widow’s advocate somewhere out there? Help us!