Skip to main content
It's when things aren't going well that I miss her the most. It's these times when I'd like to climb up in bed next to her and cry on her shoulder. I wanna tell her how much my heart hurts, but I can't. She's gone, and I'm left to my own devices.

At this point, I'm tired. I wanna go home, but there's no home to go to. If I leave California and go to Texas, I won't have a job. If I go to New York, I won't have a place to live. In addition, I won't have enough money to make it. So I'm stuck here on the West Coast -- my very own sunny version of Hell.

Now here's the funny part. Just writing those feelings down, seeing them on paper, makes me feel better. I know things could be worse. One of my good friends is sleeping in her car. Her stuff is in storage, and she's been making her Honda her home. I'm blessed that I have Mr. Wonderful, but I'm not convinced that this is the best thing for me.

It's one thing to be alone, but it's another thing altogether to be lonely when you're with someone. Yes, I live with him -- and that doesn't feel good to me and my sensibilities -- but now he's acting like I don't exist. And after a particular disappointing evening where I performed a service that I wasn't paid for, I came home to find my belongings in a closet. He was like, "I can't live with your stuff like it is."

Let me explain. He has been kind enough to let me stay with him while I get myself together. When I first got here, he cleared out two drawers and gave me part of his small hall closet. Now ladies, I submit to you even if I downsize -- and believe me I have -- that's not enough space. Therefore, I was keeping my stuff in a plastic bag in a corner of the bedroom. I also have stuff in the bathroom and on the nightstand on my side of the bed.

I guess it wasn't enough for him. My stuff was relegated to the closet, and while I normally wouldn't have cared, after the night I'd had, I just wasn't in the mood to be treated like somebody's bad child. He started in on me the minute I came in the house. I sat my keys down and he was like, "That's not where those go." I gave him that bitch please look. After that, I saw what he'd done.

If I were one to curse, cry, and scream, I'd probably feel a lot better. Since I'm trying to be considerate in the face of his grief, I just held my peace. But it's getting harder and harder to look at this man who claims to love me and not say anything.

And that's why I'm missing my grandmother more and more these days. I want to talk to her to find out how she'd handle this situation. She would know exactly what to do because she was magic. And I need a little magic in my life right now.


Popular posts from this blog

On Barack, the Nomination, and Black Love

I'm so excited about Barack Obama! I know I'm just joining the teeming millions when I say that, but I think something this big is worth repeating. Never before in the history of our country has a Black man been in a position to lead the free world, and it feels good. I'm so glad that I've lived long enough to see this day.

Beside the fact that Barack is a great candidate for the Democratic party, I'm moved by his relationship with Michelle. Not since The Cosby Show have we seen a successful Black couple who have a genuine and sincere love and respect for one another. What makes their relationship so special is that it's real -- not the product of someone's imagination.

I obviously don't know Michelle Obama, but I want to grow up to be just like her. I love the fact that she doesn't NEED Barack. She's strong, smart, and successful in her own right, yet secure enough to fall back and be supportive of her man. That's something that all y…

Out of Time

Time. You always think you have more...until you don't. I'm there.

I just left the doctor, where we discussed my fibroid. She said it was huge. So huge, in fact, that she couldn't get it all. If there's a need for another surgery, it'll be a hysterectomy.

I want babies. I want to be someone's mother. I also want to be someone's wife before I become someone's mother. And therein lies my dilemma.

It would be stupid for me to have a baby with My Teddy Bear. That's the reality of my life right now. But it would be even stupider to have a child with New Boo. Not only does he not want any more babies, he does't take care of the ones he already has. I would be an absolute idiot to attempt procreation with him. And as quiet as it's kept, I'm not interested in raising a child alone. I want my baby to have a mother AND a father.

So here I am, a 46-year-old woman who's run out of time.

The Price of Bought Sense

My grandmother used to always say, "Bought sense is better than told." What she was saying was that some knowledge could only be "bought," or experienced. However, sometimes the cost is too great.

For the fourth time this year, my heart is heavy with the news of another death. My best friend's sister lost her son in the fifth month of pregnancy. Even though she lost a baby last year, this one was way more painful for her. Not only had she begun to show, but she had to go through full-fledged labor to deliver the child.

My friend, who is handling the funeral arrangements, found out today that a mother's life insurance doesn't cover her unborn child. That means that my friend and her family are going to have to come out of their pockets to cover the cost of burying this baby who never saw the light of day.

When a baby's on the way, everyone in the family is involved. Even the children. My friend's nephew was so excited about the prospect of having an…