Someone to count on

I am quite impressed with myself.  I have done so well for myself in the last few years.  Being a single mom has made me a strong person.  As much as I struggle daily with my little girl, the struggle and the constant triumph through it all clearly demonstrate that I am indeed a strong person, with a solid character.  I know I can survive whatever comes my way.  I don’t scare so easily anymore, not about tomorrow.

I am a hard worker.  Even when my hard work doesn’t produce expected results or preferred results, I continue to work hard.  I cannot think of an instant in the last few years where I gave up, quit…?  Sure, I have thought about giving up all sorts of things over the years of course, I have felt cornered and desperate, but I have never actually made the decision to give up.  Well, I can’t recall a moment when I decided not to do something or try something because I figured it wouldn’t work out.

I know it’s not all because I am just so courageous, I do recognize that I don’t always take risks that would probably serve me well…  I am not a risk taker, this I know about myself.  This is something I want to do more of – I am talking about character risks, not skydiving.   I am talking about speaking up, doing something that scares me (like dancing alone in public) or puts me in vulnerable position.

But, I am progressing and I want to continue building this strong woman-mother.  I want my daughter to find her wonder woman right next to her.  Someone that would do anything for her welfare. Someone that will sacrifice for her benefit.  Someone that will protect her from things within control – and for those things outside of control, I am someone that can help her brace for impact or help mitigate the impact of such forces.

I  have to continue being strong so I can indeed be someone with strength she can count on.

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Save me the breath of having to explain

Although I fantasize about various types of men, I think in real life it’s best to be with a black man.  For me, it gets rid of extra explanations.  I get to save my breath from explaining all kinds of things about me – my hair for one, my skin for another.

You know, my skin covers me head to toe and sometimes that’s a problem – but, my black man would take my hand, no questions asked.  My black man and I would share this common experience, it would be a deep and expansive feature of our relationship.  Only he could begin to grasp the idea (and/or the experience) of loving me so, oh so thoroughly.  It would irrefutably bind us together, irreversibly blend our social angst and qualms while we’re at it.

He would save me the breath of having to explain myself – explain my past, explain my present and explain my future.  He saves me the breath of having to do all the explaining to our children.   Gee, I rather use those extra breaths to say “I love you more.”

I can’t imagine feeling the need to hide from him.  I can’t imagine feeling the need to keep pieces of my experience, nor a single piece of my broken heart from him.  I can’t imagine hiding from him and getting away with it.  He would know, he would have that extra sense to know me better. He would have broken pieces too and some would match those of my own heart. We would be a match made in heaven, I can see it now!

There would be no extra set of complexities and confusion between us, because he would never deliberately or inadvertently nor subconsciously add to any of my grievances.  My love for him would not be tainted by such confusion.  Whenever things happens, he would take my hand and experience my pain fully and completely like a loving embrace.  Only he would know how strong I am and he wouldn’t be surprised by how fragile I am.  It all makes sense to him.

It makes sense to be with him, to be matched with him.  His skin and my skin mean the same thing, trigger the same thing, would love and could love and should love, the same way.  We can blend in when we want to and stand conspicuously together as well.

Our love would never be questioned, be looked down on, be doubted or mocked.  We are safe in each other’s arms, most importantly, in each other’s hearts, oh but maybe even more importantly, in each other’s understanding.