Best Hands of Your Life

Me and my Mommy :)

I thank God for having not blessed me with your presence yet. Because He knows that your mother-to-be is not ready for you, as she wants you to have nothing but the best. She, I, want you to be loved endlessly with no beginning nor end. I live for you even now though I have no clue when you are coming. I have no idea who you will resemble, or even, who your father will be. I pray, for you, and I, that he is strong, and that he is his very best.

Your mother now fights to no end to be her best person. She fights to mold herself into someone that today, she currently is not; to be someone that you will admire and love. Someone who when you set your eyes upon her, your own heart will warm, and eyes will shimmer because you'll know that you've been placed into the best hands of your life.

I have nothing to offer your right now. Nothing but positive words. My hands are clammy from fighting with myself so much that they've forgotten that they themselves have the ability to soften and be gentle. My heart weeps daily as she cries for freedom from her past. She wants herself to be relinquished from people, places, and things that she no longer belongs. So she writes, pours her heart out onto blank pages as she fills them with the honest foolishness of her young life and the sincerest dreams of what is to come. A dreamer is who your mother is. She dreams of life at it's best. Life at it's most gentle times. She dreams, wishes, hopes, and prays for a life for you that is noteworthy and God-fearing. A life that is well-documented and rejoiced over. A life that when you're my age, your battles nor pain will not surpass my own. For you, I desire nothing but the best. 

And while I am still learning this whole life thing, I look forward to awaiting and delivering your arrival. I've already decided your delivery will be a natural one, with no drugs. Spartan right? Even now, I feel the need to be aware of everything that pertains to you. I just know that I want absolutely nothing but the best for you and will see to it that this is what you're given - even now, when you have yet to announce your forthcoming or your arrival. 

Even now, you have been and will be placed into the best hands of your life.

Tickled with Anticipation

I spent some time not long ago looking at engagement rings, wedding gowns, honeymoon spots, and floral arrangements. Trying to put a face to the man I'll spend forever with and the kids we'll make and raise and love. Delving into careers that I would love to wake up to partake in daily. Imagining the home I'll help create. Spent some time attempting to look into the future and tried to figure out life now and how it'll affect life later. Consciously attempting to coordinate steps so that they only positively affect what's to come. Of course, the end result left me empty handed, but, the attempt was made.

I've always said that we get from life what we put into it. And that's the honest to God truth. Should you contribute nothing to this one life of yours, your harvest will return to you ill fruits and parch land. But, should you sow your land with grace and dedication, your harvest then will return to you the best things of this life. But not necessarily in a fashion or span of time that you may see fit.

I can tell you with the straightest face possible, I have no clue what life has in store. I don't know what to expect come next week or six months from now, let alone a year or more from now. Regardless of how much I "plan", life does it's own thing; I'm just a participant in its show, a pawn in its game, a squirrel trying to get a nut - to say the least.


I just want the best out of this life and I hope the same applies to you and those in your immediate circle. But in wanting the best out of this life, we have to make some pretty tough decisions, burn some bridges, tear out some chapters, cry plenty tears, and do some back turning. And we have to do all of this hoping on a wish and a prayer that the end result is a life that when we sit back and reflect, we can confidently and proudly say that we are happy and satisfied with the decisions made.


Though this may sound like some internal battle of good versus evil quipped with the past fighting the future, it's not. It's a woman playing with her own thoughts and hoping, wishing, and praying that her life from here on out is full of nothing but joyous surprises because after all, she is truly tickled with anticipation and can't wait to see what is on its way to her.

The Itch that Don't Need Scratching

There's nothing cuter in this world than holding a baby and watching them coo, giggle, and smile. Nothing sweeter than kissing their petite feet, fingers, and toes, or blowing onto bellies protruding over diapers to hear them laugh hysterically. And even more so, there's nothing like watching them grow into fast-talking toddlers with vocabularies that can now form opinions, wants, and full fledge statements. I remember watching my brother as a toddler, though we're only three years apart, I remember his growth and habits. He's now a well-adjusted, fun loving 21 year old man. Our sister, who's three, seems to have grown up overnight. She knows her colors, ABCs, and 123s. She has to help pick out her clothes and voices her opinion on what "blip-blops" she wants to wear today.


Children, no matter how small or large, how sweet or otherwise, truly are the best things made of this world. They show us who we are as they are our best mirrors. And yet, I've found myself from time-to-time, wanting a child of my own for these very same reasons. Odd right? Shoot, scary too!


 At first I thought it was just me. But then I realized on Twitter timelines, Facebook statuses, and everyday conversations, a lot of women my age, were beginning to feel the itch of wanting a baby. A whole entire child. Some because of the cuteness, some to have someone to love more than we love ourselves and more than the man we've created this child with (in some cases at least). For whatever reason, children sometimes have become an active thought subject for those of us in our mid-twenties.


And again, scary thought.


One of my best friends and I always joke about how miserable and mean I'd be as a pregnant woman. And she tells just as quickly "Yup me and the kids are going to have move in for the first 4 months". We've been besties since we were little girls growing up in the projects and she now is a wonderful wife and even more fabulous mother of three gorgeous little girls. I've watched her in action as the oldest practices her ballet, the middle baby is screaming for more  dry cereal, and the baby is cooing and laughing on her hip. She quiets them all without raising her voice or showing an ounce of frustration. I tell her all the time, you're the type of mother I want to be with patience of steel.


I don't know where this itch comes from. But I know how to rid it and do so quickly. Remember that three year little girl I mentioned in the beginning? Her. My brother and I call her the perfect example of birth control. She can be the sweetest child on Earth when she wants to be. But more times than not, it's a screamfest at our mother's as she's constant, non-stop noise. Full of screams and laughter, you're more likely to trip over a dolls head and bang your knee against one of her three bikes - whichever one she chooses to cruise through the house on because "Sasha tryna get me". Sasha's the cat by the way. This child who I love soooo dearly, is the antihistamine that hasn't been tapped into for the "baby itch".


See, babies grow up and babies eventually talk and grow in themselves. And at 24, I seriously, just cannot imagine chasing after a toddler who's nonstop, all day. I tip my hat and offer many accolades to those who are doing the things I can't picture right now. It's not about selfishness, or me being full of myself. There are things in life that we know whether we're ready for or not. And when it comes to children, regardless of how great I am with them, they're the one thing I'd probably gag and cry at the news of "Ms. Clark, you're pregnant" right now.


So 'til the time is right and all of my stars and moons have aligned for the children who will eventually come from me to be bought into this world, I'll take my daily dose of the three year old who wears my shoes, dabs into my nail polish, and attaches herself to me more than I can keep count.


Kids are cute. But I'll stick with the kid who isn't mine and the cat I wake up to daily.

Regina Belle

If I Could

The {every-year} Holiday Battle

Holidays with my family are always full of good times and the laughter of children. And of course, good great food. If you ask me, no one's cooking could ever rival my mother's. Which is why I was so excited this past New Year as we ushered in 2010 when I cooked cabbage for the first time and it tasted just like my mother's. Women, I believe, spend our lives trying to perfect our cooking to taste just like Mom's. My next task: the baked mac and cheese (my brother and I return home everytime she cooks it.)

But off of the topic of food.

As joyous and exciting as the holidays are, they're also secretly saddening. It's during these times we look back and reflect on the lives that we wish were present physically, and not just spiritually, or in memory. It's during this time of the year, that I get particularly sad about my grandfather, my Bay-Bay, no longer being with me. I can't speak his name, or think back to then, or what could have been for now, without becoming flustered and teary-eyed, voice crackling, and tears eventually falling. There's never been a man I've adored or loved as much as him. No man's memory has ever bought tears to my eyes but his so easily. His smile and laughter, his denim blue hat and staple white button up shirt, tucked into the waist of his pants and it sat snug over his protruding belly - are missed more than I could possibly express in words or in actions.

I was 9 when he passed. He died of a massive heart attack, and from what I'd been told, on the steps of a friend. He was and has always been my favorite man. And it's because of this, my mother, step-father, and the rest of the family, had chosen as a collective, not to tell me about his passing until after the service. Until after the logistics had been taken care of. I've always felt some type of way about that collective decision, because I'd never been given the chance, the opportunity to say good-bye. Granted I've said and say it in my dreams, whisper it to the skies above when I think about him, and when the tears fall so easily down my cheeks - it's just not the same.

It's due to his death that writing became my safe haven; the safest place on earth. But it's also due to his death in particular that holidays just aren't the same. Nor are birthdays. Or graduations. Or life-altering moments like the birth of my now 2-year-old sister or when my Grandma had to have brain surgery, my elementary or high school graduations, acceptance into college, or when I moved into my own place. Granted, he's everpresent because that's just how Bay-Bay is, it's never been the same.

As a child, I recall sitting on his back while we watched Star Trek or V (he loved Sci-fi flicks, and I've never been able to watch them since) while I dolled his hair up with barrettes and ballies. We'd take random trips to the ice cream parlor on Ridge Avenue. He'd let me help him clean out his white van with the burgandy interior. Or, he'd just sit, with me on his lap. It's because of him I fell in love with Red Lobster's cheddar bay biscuits and with Red Lobster in general. He was my Bay-Bay, and I was his Nurl-Nurl (and forever will be).

Courtesy of he and my Grandmother, I was spoiled, rotten, and there wasn't much of anything to do about it. The first grand, the first girl, I was lavished with gifts and candy, movies and late nights watching sci-fi flics with my favorite, main man. My squeaky cackle and his rolling, bellowing laughter always filled up whatever room we were in. My mother always says to me "Just imagine how much more spoiled you'd be if he were here". Unfortunately, just like we don't know how many licks it takes to get to the center of tootsie pop, the world may never know the full extent of my spoiled rotteness. From birth, when doctors deemed my life to be over before it had even began, this man, held and nurtured me from birth, daily. There was never a day that his love was not shown.

I was a little girl being shown what love was all about. What it felt and sound like. Was being taught as a child that when love is gone, however it departs, there's no replacing the void left behind.

It's been 14 years.
And holidays, life has never been the same.
That void, that hole in my heart has never scabbed over to heal.

As children, we're taught "I Love You" as a part of speech. But we don't understand the action, the feat, what it looks and feels like until later in life. And if we're lucky enough, someone pivotal enough, important enough, loving enough, like my Bay-Bay teaches it to us in simplistic ways that are easily digested for us as children. And as we age, it becomes clearer to us just what they were teaching us. And that's what hurts the most: we've known love since before our birth, but somewhere between that first breath and adulthood, we lose or have lost the language of love.

Lucky me, I had a man who as big, black, and chunky as he was, taught me just what love was and what love is so that as an adult, I could understand it, I could digest it just as easily as I had when he let me style his coily, soft black hair or say his nickname for me: Nurl Nurl. That, is love.

Lucky me, from birth to age 9, and even now at 23, that man to whom I hold so dearly and so tightly to my heart and my memories, loved and loves me the way love is supposed to be done.

So while you stuff your face this holiday season with turkey, stuffing, and baked mac and cheese, sweet potatoe pie, cheesecake, and egg nog, realize, that this is all about love and nothing else. While death is promised, life isn't guaranteed, LOVE, sits cradled somewhere between the two - and it's up to us, to recognize it, and be willing to share it with another.

Letter to a 2 Year Old Me

Little Girl, Little Brown Girl-

What to say to you, I have not a clue as I'm still figuring this thing called life out myself. What are the facts of life and how will they benefit or hinder you? Wish I could tell you. But, your life will be one that when you look back on it, you'll be satisfied with the strides you've made.

There's much for you to discover and anticipate in this life. The journey though, is and will be rough and rugged; it's parched and dry. But you will learn that nothing is given to anyone who doesn't want to earn it. Who doesn't want to work hard and effortlessly. Not to spill the beans, but you'll grow into a hard-working woman who's tone and demeanor is endearing and passionate. People will gravitate to you because your smile is soft and gentle, it glides across your face with ease, and comforts the troubled spirits of many.

You've been born into a situation that you have no control over, but you, being the little girl you are, and the woman you'll  grow into will make the best and better of it. You will use it not as a crutch, but as a stepping stone. Your current situation, are the bootstraps that you'll pull up tightly and hold onto as a woman.

You're mother, to many right now, is a little girl herself. But to you, she's the world. And she'll always be that to you. Like the relationships of most mothers and their daughters, the two of you will go through rough patches, but only because a mother's love has no limits and because a child has to figure out who they are. Your love for her, limitless. You'll inherit many of her traits and take on her personality. Her laugh will become your own. Her sarcasm, willingness to lend a hand to those in need, and "pull no punches" attitude, will all wrap themselves around you to become yours.

Your favorite color will be purple. Your truest and best friends will be girls named Ashley, Brittany, and Deahna. It's from these women you'll learn the meaning of friendship. With them, you'll go through life knowing you're not going through it alone. The four of you together, will learn to love and nurture what it means to be women.

You're an artist. A writer to be more specific. You're a Pisces too, so the arts is something that's ingrained in your identity.  This, will be one of your greatest accomplishments. This, is the outlet that you carve and make for yourself. It is the place you go to in order to escape. It is a trait, a practice that will allow for you to understand the complexities of life.

I don't have all of the answers for you. I can't tell you what things you should and shouldn't do, but, do what makes you happy. I know this is I'm sure years too late, but it's best to do what makes your heart content - I've watched you spend years trying, attempting to make others happy before taking yourself into consideration first. But, that's life: it's about nothing else but learning how to make it and yourself better.

I speak to you candidly now because I've been where you're going. But there are places that we'll visit and things we'll experience together.  Life you will learn, is full of roller coasters and when they come, my best advice to you is to buckle down and face them head on with eyes wide open because there's nothing in life that you ever want to say you've missed out on. Have fun, because you only have one time to do this. Life is no dress rehearsal, no do-overs, or repeats.

I feel like this is nothing but a collection of cliches and quotes from famous and unfamous people. But it's not. It's all original. And new. This, is for you and for all of the little girls who will come after you. This is to tell you that though you'll worry yourself crazy because life is going to stress you, there's nothing to stress about. As you get older, you'll garner a relationship with God and strengthen your faith that will allow for you to weather any storm. You'll learn and come to understand the power of prayer. The importance in patience. You'll learn that it is OK to put yourself first.

I apologize to you now for putting others before you. And for holding grudges that weren't worth holding onto. I apologize for learning what it means to forgive later than I probably should. I tell you these things now because things may have turn out differently for you, for me, had you been given these facts of life earlier. But you'll learn that life is about learning. Every waking moment is a chance to learn more and be better.

I'll tell you though, there's a little girl you'll meet in about 20 years who will teach you just how beautiful life is. And she, is the inspiration for this. She is the little girl who's made it easier for me to not only to look back to then, but to look forward to and anticipate what's to come.

Live your life because God gave it to you for a reason.

Love always,
You.

Hanging in the Balance

I was at work when I’d gotten the call from my mother. Sitting at my desk, with a freshly made cup of raspberry green tea, I was counting down the hours as they passed and ushered me closer to signing out and taking my 40 minute train and bus ride home. My evening was somewhat planned: Aveeno stress relief foaming bath, dinner, write my nightly letter, and off to bed.

My mother was hysterical, frazzled and could barely get her words together. When it finally did come together, the news was that my cousin, to whom I carry her name as my middle name, was high off of wet, PCP, marijuana/weed/ganja/ooo-wee soaked in embalming fluid – whatever name you want to call it by, had jumped out of her sister’s third floor window and wasn’t responding. The words you just read don’t even look right in print, but it’s the truth. This, is currently my family’s reality as we pray that she makes it through without knowing how severe her injuries are or possibly, how difficult her life may become due to this horrific situation should she make it out. It’s that deep.

With a fractured skull, concussion, internal bleeding, bleeding in her head, partially collapsed lung, partially fractured spine, and broken top portion of her back, it’s a wonder she’s still here. It’s a blessing and a reason that she’s alive.

I come from a family of drug abusers and addicts. The list is long and the affects that it’s had on my family is saddening. But this situation, tops them all. Takes the cake. And truthfully, pisses me off. Some may question, why are you even dishing your family business out there for the world to know? Let me tell you why…

Aside from this blog, I also write for an online magazine, Urban Plateau. And I really wanted to save this piece for our October issue. But the issues in this “blog”, in this “piece”, this “work” are too important to hold off for a few weeks when maybe, just maybe, I may be able to save someone. Or help someone save someone. Or give someone the thought to be proactive instead of reactive. Urban Plateau is an online magazine that gives me a monthly opportunity to write from my soul. And that’s what I attempt to do each and every month. This online magazine, for those of us who contribute to it, we don’t do it for the glory or for the comments. But, because we have something to say and so long as our words reach at least one person, we’ve succeeded. We don’t do this to increase our friend requests or followers on Facebook or Twitter. We don’t do this for recognition or accolades either. But because there’s something to be said. I don’t know how many people read my work. I don’t know how many lives my work has, do, or will touch. I don’t even know if there’s a point to me writing. But I do it. And I’m faithful to it. All of the same aspects apply to this here blog. I do this to share. To write, to be an artist and not share your work, your God given gifts, to be selfish at all costs.

As I write this, my cousin’s life literally is hanging in the balance. Should it falter in any way, shape, or form, she could be gone – forever. But as her life depends on the steady hands and intelligence of hospital physicians, our family is split right down the middle. Separated and torn. Yes, we’re all devastated, but, not all devastation is the same. Not everyone can carry or handle life when life itself becomes fragile and tender like a nerve. And many of us in my family are proving we don’t know how to handle tragedy. That we don’t know how to conduct ourselves in public, or in the confines of our own homes.

In my family, in my community, drugs rule the world while they simultaneously destroy them too. I’ve watched aunts and uncles, cousins, my father, be destroyed by deadly chemical concoctions that are not meant for human consumption. Yet, they consume. They take in. The high takes them somewhere they’ve never been before. Some think they are invincible and won’t burn in a house fire. Some, think they can jump from windows and roofs, and fly. Some think and thought, they could puncture veins and no one would notice.

Yes, it’s just that deep!

Life is not a game to be played with. It’s not Spades where you get rewarded for having more books than you originally predicted. Or 2500 where the winner takes all. This life is not a game meant to be reckoned with. The fact of the matter is from the moment we come into this world, from our first breathe and first cry, we’re dying. And because of this, we ought to live life daily as if it’s our last.

There are so many things wrong with what’s going on right now not only in my own family, but in families and communities across this country and throughout the world. Mothers and fathers are abandoning their children to “do them”, and leaving these same children to grow into adults who don’t know how to be adults. Parents are being incarcerated at alarming rates while state department of corrections can’t build prisons fast enough. So bad that in Pennsylvania, men have been transferred to Michigan and Virginia, and the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections is building a new prison to which they’ve already named SCI Benner. Schools are failing, below average, with sub-par teachers who do it for a check – or do it and don’t know how to get the job done. The rich get tax breaks while the poor get taxed and are forced to work outside of their county in hopes of earning a better living to support their family or themselves.

Yes, it’s just that deep!

In black communities, we don’t take the addictions of our friends and family serious until the elephant in the room decides it’s tired of sitting still, quietly, not making a sound. It’s not until this façade of one of the world’s most dangerous animals becomes a reality and comes to life to realize and admit that there’s some direly wrong with this picture. Same applies to my family, and hundreds, thousands, millions of families throughout.

Our survival hangs in the balance.
And something gots to give.
Something needs to be done.

I know I usually write about love and life as if I’m looking through rose colored glasses, where I fill it up with sweet words that we get drunk off of. But this is something like love. Matter of fact, it is love. It’s love enough to take off the rose colored glasses, sit them down, and look at what I’m surrounded by and admit that this life, is a mess. And something gots to give! Daily, I’m watching little girls bigger than me, switch and prance hips and breasts that they don’t know what to do with them. They lick their lips and talk slick without understanding the meaning of these innuendos. Yet, no one says anything. No one loves them enough in these rough streets, these war zones, to let them know they’re better than what people see. I’m a woman and I’ve been there. But someone loved me enough, a woman who knew me and my girlfriends only from seeing us huddled in the back corners of the 32 bus. She loved us enough to check us and pull our coattails because no one had done it with her. She loves us enough to guide us and protect us during a time when our mothers couldn’t. She was privy to our young girl mentalities and loves us enough to love us as if she were our kin. She showed us where we could end up should we not abide by life's rules where it gives us very little wiggle room to create our own rules. She showed us that being naughty can be a good thing - when done correctly and at the right time; then, wasn't the right now. She checked us. And because of her, to an extent, one of us is a married mother of three, we all take care of ourselves, and have grown into responsible, respectful and respectable women.

At the end of the day, something has to give. Something has to be done to promise our children and grandchildren, those here and those to be, a life worth living. A life worth fighting for and struggling on behalf of. Our todays are not guarantees to become memories. It's not promised to us that tomorrow and next week, month, or year, that we'll be given the chance, the opportunity to remember today.

And while my cousin fights for her life, and my family bickers worst than a gang of alley cats fighting for scraps, I write none of this for condolences, empathy, or conforting words. But instead, I hope that someone, at least one person, takes something from this because our lives don't have to hang in the balance. They don't have to waver or linger between days. They don't have to be meaningless. So I pray you, the reader, gets something from this. And if not now, someday.

Visit Urban Plateau @ http://www.urbanplateau.com/ It's a well-worth treat!

root of (most)(all) evil

I've come to believe, that love, not money green papered money, is the root of most, if not all evil. As children, after learning to say Mama and Dada, the first phrase to which we're taught is I love you. Not I'm hungry, I'm wet, or sleepy, or even the infamous 'leave me alone', but, I love you. It was one of the first phrases I tried my damnest to teach my now two year old sister. She only began to grasp and repeat it this year, but since her first utterances, I drilled this three word, three syllable phrase into her ever growing and expanding vocabulary.

Even as children, we correlate love with hugs and kisses, with holding of hands and grasping of calves. We understand and understood then, that there is something simplistically difficult about this word, this action, this phrase. We realize as children, with a very limited vocabulary, that my responsibility, is to comprehend exactly what love is.

The reasons we're taught and teach this phrase can only be one of two reasons; either to embrace it or avoid it - at all costs.

Most of my writing is about love and my mishaps with it. Most poets write about love and their desires for it. Most celebrity blogs dramatize it. We search for jobs that we love. Blushing brides search for that gown to which they love. Teachers take measly salaries for their love of the job. Women endure, whether out of stupidity or not, because of love. We make love and make babies out of this love. We open our eyes daily because some higher power loved us that much to keep us. And some of us, don't open our eyes and succumb to death because some higher power loved us enough to take us away.

Everything we do and everything we search for, is for and because of love.

At some point in our lives, love does us wrong, does us raw, and skins us alive. Love, as merciless as it feels, and at times it is, at particular and certain points in our lives, is like the summer's wasp. With sealed lids, it functions off and out of sheer emotion, and sometimes, blindly enters into realms and situations that are no good for it, places that could end its existence. But love, like the wasp, moves rapidly. It doesn't budge or shake like the bee when swat at; doesn't die immediately when hit either. Love, stands alone and by itself.

I remember being a young teenage girl, along with my best friends and school peers, sharing stories and tales about what we thought then was love. Love then, didn't require trial and error; love then, were mere experimentations, tests, to see if we, as girls, were ready. The irony in it all, is that even now as women, our emotions and reactions to the real thing tend to be as gentle and succulent as our then 16 years old girl hearts were.

Love, is the only emotion, that keeps trying. That is forever enduring and growing. Love, is the only emotion that transcends time and species. Love, is the only emotion that attempts to be all-knowing, but is also, the only emotion that is ever present.

And even though I personally believe, in my heart of hearts that love, not that money green papered money, is the root of most, if not all evil, I for one, will continue to conquer and perfect it. I, will continue to practice and critique it. I, have and will continue to evolve because of love.

It is an evil after all that is necessary.

"Love has no awareness of merit or demerit; it has no scale by which its portion may be weighed or measured. It does not seek to balance giving and receiving. Love loves; this is its nature".

Howard Thurman, Meditations of the Heart, 1953

Hear My Call

Jill Scott

performance from 41st Annual NAACP Awards