For a long time, driving felt impossible because I had already learned how to build my whole life around not doing it. All I knew was keeping enough money to give somebody gas, catching the RTA bus, ordering an Uber, or walking if the distance looked manageable.

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The day started with one simple responsibility. I needed to take Alina to get her blood work done. That was the plan. Get in the car. Handle the appointment. Then come back home. For years, that alone would have required checking rideshare prices first. 

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June is not arriving softly for me at all. It is meeting me in the middle of where responsibility, exhaustion, healing, and hard truth lies. I am stepping into this month as a mother. One who rarely gets a physical break. As a black woman carrying the full weight of providing. Oh, yeah and as someone learning how to keep going without pretending any of that is a walk in the park.

Therefore, as I step into June, I am being honest about what this season is asking of me. What I need to carry with intention. Also, what I need to finally leave behind.

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Let me tell you, ‘Sha! There comes a moment that rolls in harder than a Louisiana summer thunderstorm. Also, it does not tiptoe in. What does it do? It storms through the front door. You look at your world. Your babies. Your fustrations. 

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Honey, let me tell you, April wasn’t here to play with me, not a damn bit. It hit me with the kind of pressure and force that will make you move differently whether you are ready or not. Look, I did not pop up on my blog much last month.

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