Walking Shoes.... On.

I'm a #CaliKid. Flip flops ARE walking shoes.

So there are times when I go for a walk. I know what you’re thinking – it’s a walk, but it’s for a run, so it’s really a variation of a run because there’s a race. Newsflash: There is always a next race... Most times, you’d be spot on if you saw me out in the streets. But every so often, I wander around the world in walking shoes (that were once running shoes).

Naw, scratch that. I wasn't that introspective. See, what had happened was, I went to the gas station, and well, the price of gas made me think about some things. Like, why would one drive to the store when it's less than a mile away and you're not in a hurry? When, not months ago, you paid someone what it cost to fill your gas tank (maybe a lil more) to run on that same exact street. Yeah, maybe you should walk to the store once...or more. So, I walk now, on occasion, to bring some balance back to my life and my checkbook.

The last two times I was out walking, cars driving by stopped me, to ask if I needed a ride. I did not know the driver, and was shocked at the gesture. I had to pull my earbuds out to make sure I heard what I read their lips saying. One time was a week day during commuting traffic. Who stops in that? The second was an early weekday morning, just before commuting traffic. I say again, who stops in that?

Black Women.

Both drivers asked if I was okay and if I needed a ride. I smiled and share that I was walking on purpose. Both gave me the you sure you not in danger, girl eye, but smiled and continued on their commute. Nobody walks during commuting hours on purpose. You could see it in the wave of their hands gesturing me to the empty front passenger seat. You know you wanna get in the A/C girl…it’s hot outside! You realize we can CARpool, in this here CAR. Anybody else stopping to ask me if I needed a ride, I would have felt some kind of creepy way. But them?

Made the walk all the merrier. I am relearning to love my city post-gentrifiers. I mean, there’s more of it to gentrify, which they’ll get too soon, but the real damage is done. It started long before the IKEA arrived. When Ravenswood High School closed, that was the real beginning of our end. But that’s a conversation for another time. The truth is, I really don’t feel all that warm and fuzzy when I lace up my running and/or walking shoes and pound (and/or pitty pat) the pavement these days. The street signs are the same, but the signs of life have changed.

I got a reprieve from those thoughts though during these two walks. That’s usually what’s running through my mind – where in the world am I? Could it be? I stayed away too long... In those specifically beautiful instances, I got a glimpse of the home I knew and walked around in it a little longer than I planned.

Also, I love Black Women. It's nice to know that we're not too busy trying to save this dying world to save each other.

Bear. Down. Y'all. #grrrrrrrr

Something I never do – call people when they are sick (and/or shut in), infirmed, or otherwise accessing their health benefits (should they have them). It’s like the worse call to get. You ever been really sick, and someone calls and is like, Hey, I heard you were sick! Are you okay?

I don’t even have to continue, right? You feel me, rogue. So, when it comes to the big sick(s and shut in’s) and totally infirmed, and absolutely accessing health benefits, I’m like a ghost. Don’t get me wrong, I take them to the Lord in prayer, and check up on them, but I ain’t sh!t, so there is always that. I mean, what in the hell do you say.

Aye dog, I heard you were sick. What happened? Awe nothing, I just got cancer and like a few months left to live. Really? That’s crazy?! I can’t believe it?! I‘m so shocked! I had no idea anything was wrong!

Right. That person probably had no idea that something was wrong, and well, didn’t feel like broadcasting it to the entire omniverse, but you found out, because that’s what people do, and it’s not wrong that you found out and want to show that you care, but what you intend doesn’t always have the impact you desired. So, with that, I keep the phone calls to nil.

The last thing I want to do to someone going through, is to have them comfort me. You know, the way I did some humans (being totally human) when they found out ole’Poochie was pressing a dying pillow. Everyone was so sorry for me. And wanted to hug me for them, not for me, because I really didn’t want to be touched, and it felt hella rude to give them a thizz-faced-heisman, so I hugged back. Because clearly they needed it.

Where am I going with this? I’m glad I asked, because I can go on and on. A sisterfriend messaged our circle of sisterfriends to tell us that one of our friends from grad school was in hospice. Our group chat is usually littered with memes. We used words to describe our replied emotions. Actual. Living. Words. Exactly – that’s how big of a shock it was. There was no time to type anything in a search bar or scroll through images.

Included in the message was an address to the hospice location. I looked at the group chat, then scrolled up to the address, opened up a google search, and typed it in. I located a phone number and dialed it. The woman transferred me to the actual location, and they transferred me to her room. It wasn’t until that moment I realized what I was doing. I almost hung up the phone, but the way my everlasting soul is set up, I don’t need no’mo’ red marks – so I stayed on the mainline (to tell’em what I wanted…which I wasn’t sure of, so there was awkward to follow).

My friend was resting which was a save for real. I asked that a message be passed along that I called to tell her that I love her (I improvised) and that she was in my thoughts and prayers (not the ones we give after school/mass shootings and such, actual ones). I shared a quick memory of always seeing her at conferences post-graduate school. If yall think I’m loud, let you get in ear or eye shot of her! That country accent will sail across the conference center, smacking you right in the heart. If love has anything to do with being remembered, then I was definitely loved by her – she always remembered me, smiling.

I ended the conversation with Thanks so much! Have a great rest of your day! because that’s what you tell friends and family and staff in hospice centers when someone is lying in a bed, yet holding on. I can’t be made after God’s complete image and likeness doing mess like that. Sheesh. My head hit my desk in horror. Father, God. Like, who raised me??

That evening I bought a card and printed a photo of us to send to her – my way of repenting for my awful salutation. That next morning I messaged my sisterfriends that we should maybe send some flowers from us, had to be like 8:30AM or so. Around 4:00PM that same sisterfriend shared that our friend had fought the good fight and ha[d] gone home to see her heavenly and earthly father. My God, today.



GRRRRRR! bih! GRRRRRRR!!

I’m not sure why I’m even writing this. Sure there are the obvious takeaways… Give folks they flowers while they yet alive *in my old Auntie voice* … Tell the people you love that you love them and mean it … Don’t wait on tomorrow, do it today … All of that stuff about living full and doing it well with so much intention. Like we did every conference meetup. There was a fun photo, bear paws, and a GRRRRR! because we absolutely, positively, always did it…like Big Bears! #UCA c/o2006 #DoItLikeABigBear #GRRRRRR

I just can’t help but wonder why I called her. It was specific, deliberate, and very intentional. It was so unlike myself. While it felt natural, it was completely uncharacteristic. I imagine the few people I told only believe me because I am so messed up about it. So many people who passed on before her, why was it that I called her? I imagine some will say it was for some greater good, or that I did some noble thing, or that it was a blessing to her. Even that it was for my own personal/emotional growth and development (because why am I not done with that already?!). Sure, all plausible.

I just don’t (won’t) believe it.