If you really knew me, you’d know I live with my soul on my sleeve, for better or for worse, for richer which I’ve never been, or poorer, and until death does my spirit part.
If you really knew me, you’d know I have a pair of flip-flops for every occasion sharing coveted closet space with 6 inch platforms and knee high boots, all equally a part of who I am.
If you really knew me, you’d know black people do not only swim, but love the beach, hike like Robinson Crusoe, come in all colors, dialects and get sunburned.
If you really knew me, you’d know I live to get lost in a book, write like my life depends upon me moving my fingers along a keyboard or gently gripping a smooth ballpoint gel pen or watching heroines look good while healing the world on the small or mighty screen.
If you only knew me, you’d know I love to have my nails done as much as I love hiking through a dust ridden trail that approximates a desolate paradise.
If you only knew me, you’d know I’m still rebelling from the overarching childhood restrictions governing an already perfectionistic and overly conservative only child.
If you only knew me, you’d know I miss my daddy and close my eyes to hear his voice, feel his presence, and go the way he would tell me to.
If you only knew me, you’d know I regret being so cautious, safe and planned and wish I had not embraced the belief that hard work pays off and celebrated the moment because it would never return.
If you only knew me, you’d know I am afraid of being alone, being rejected, wallowing in stress and depression in spite of the smile that plasters my face like a mask alluding to inner strength and confidence.
If you only knew me, you’d know the phone call, message, hug and encouraging words are what allow me to take the next breath to continue in service.
If you only knew.
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