2:15

Our son was born May 12, 2001. He came into the world 7lbs, 2oz with a head full of hair. He was soooo tiny. I can still feel that moment when I first laid eyes on him. My husband Mark was the first person to hold him. I pause even as I write this because as I reflect on all the moments of my son’s birth there are so many things that bring joy to my heart. It’s kind of funny reminiscing about my son in Marks arms. It looked like he was holding an animal or something, because when I say my son had hair, I mean, he had a full head of hair, and my husband had been bald since his early 20’s (he was 33 on our sons birthday), and I definitely am not hairy. Heck, as a matter of fact I think I’ve only had to shave my underarms only 3 times in my 44 years of life and one of those times was just because my silly teenage self, wanted to try it after seeing my older sister Jessica do it. OMG, I’m sorry, I just realized that I haven’t introduced myself; my name is Paige and OMG again, I haven’t told you my sons name; Joel. Joel is his name. Now it’s not pronounced the way you may think, it’s actually pronounced ‘Jo-el’. Now you’re probably thinking, ‘now why didn’t they spell that baby’s name right, well blame my husband Mark for that. For those that don’t know, when a woman is giving birth, she is usually medicated…which I was…and after the birth, some women are still medicated up….and I was…..soooooo when it came time to fill out certain forms, Mark, my wonderful husband filled out some of those forms and welllllll Mark wasn’t the best speller so he went with…and I quote – “The way I thought it was spelled”. I love that man, and he’s going to kill me for writing about that, but I’ll find a way to make it up to him. I’m trying to remember the moment we left the hospital but I’m having a problem remembering it, because all my mind can focus on his seeing my husband pulling up to the curb in that god ugly minivan. I hated that thing! I just remember sitting in the hospital wheelchair at the ‘baby curb’ with the nurse standing behind me holding the wheelchair as I set there holding Joel. My husband knew I hated that van, but he was so cute that day. He was fumbling all over the place as he checked to make sure the baby seat was secure. He carefully reached into my arms to grab the baby and put him in the car seat and kissed Joel on the cheek. Then he turned to me and helped me into the van. He carefully made sure I was comfortable before shutting the door, then leaned in and kissed my forehead. He was just a big ball of joy. He even gave the nurse whom wheeled me down a hug. Wow, he was so excited that it made me feel so loved and joyful. He jumped into the driver seat and started feeling around for his keys to the van and started to panic when he couldn’t find them. I reached over and touched his right hand and said, ‘Baby the van is on. The keys are in the ignition already’. He didn’t know what to say or do, and all I could do was say, ‘I love you babe’. We’d finally made it home. What a long journey we’d been through. 9 months I’d been carrying our child. Mark had always wanted a baby boy, but I never really had a preference. I just wanted a healthy baby when the time came for us to conceive. Throughout my pregnancy I never had those weird cravings. I’d never had those ruff nights. I didn’t have morning sickness. I just didn’t have that typical pregnancy that you see on TV. We made all of our doctors’ visits and I started prenatal care and vitamins before we even knew I was with child. I just figured that since we were trying, I may as well start taking them. I remember being so grateful that I wasn’t experiencing all the issues that many women go through, but at the same time I kind of felt cheated because I didn’t know if I was missing the true experience of being pregnant. I guess that was the only real ‘pregnant’ experience I had, paranoia. I just felt like something was off. But throughout, every doctors visit was great, but there was always feeling of something’s wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I stopped trying to find something to point too. So there we were, Mark and I standing over Joel in his crib watching him rest. The room was a light purple with a yellow rocking chair off in the corner. A dark wood changing station was right next to the crib. There was a silver diaper trash can to the left of the crib. Behind us was a bookshelf that we’d turned into a towel/diaper/baby books/pic holder and whatever else we could find to make it a baby room. In the middle of wall, separating the windows was a black and white clock. 2:15…2:15…2:15, I’ll never forget the moment when I was hit with a ton of bricks. All of the concerns I’d had during pregnancy were suddenly clear to me. At 2:15 I realized that I hadn’t heard my baby’s voice. Even though I’d been on medication at the hospital, I couldn’t remember hearing his first cry. I’d held him several times by now, but he hadn’t made a sound. 2:15…2:15…2:15

My Name is Jade

Who really go the heart for this life? While my heart beats, it’s a very silent rhythm. Man I swear there isn’t one decent person walking this earth. Everyone is out to get something or something else. If it’s not ass, then it’s money. If it’s not those then it’s fame. If not fame, then it’s power, and so-on-and-so-on. Everyone has their means of obtaining what they’re seeking and if you look close enough you’ll see it. All the lies, betrayals, selfishness, grimy and so many other things are right there in your face! Yeah some things are clearer than others but look…it’s there. Now sure you’d be hard pressed to see my moves, but that’s because I’ve learned from previous mistakes. Fuck I look like getting caught doing something stupid? Especially when there are so many stupid motherfuckers out there that would love to ‘step up’ and prove themselves and do shit for you. It’s funny how respect is obtained in some circles. I love me some movies and I’ve always loved gangster movies or mob movies. I just liked how respect was clear and never had to be spoken. Every mob/gangster movie I’ve seen, had at some point pointed out someone’s rise in the rankings and mine was no different. I’ve written about a few things already, so you know a little about the background that made me into who I became, but let me tell you about this young individual that was looking to get ‘noticed’. We called him Black Snoop. I really don’t know how this lil nigga ended up with us, but somehow there he was pulling my left arm back, tugging me off of someone. In the mist of pure chaos this lil nigga established himself by looking out for me. Wow, it’s funny writing this shit cause I look back and think just how lucky I’ve been to survive a lot of this mess. So one of my home girls invited me to her little cookout/pool party. Now I’ve never really been a huge partier but as you know I do get out there from time-to-time, so I showed up. I like to do my own things at times, so I went alone. Man, this party was packed. Everyone was having a good time and the smell of weed could be smelled a block away. The music was blazing, lol, shit I even remember the song that was playing when the fight broke out; damn Will Smith’s summertime… anyway, so I made my way over to my home girl Keisha and gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered ‘Damn ma, you looking good. This mug is packed’. Yea we were fucking, but I was there solo and chilling. I made my way over to a cooler and reached down to grab a Corona. I’m getting dapped up and high fiving everyone. Gang signs everywhere, and all was good. One of my home boys Black Pete was dee-jaying, so I dapped him up and hollered at him for minute, but as you know there’s always a too drunk nigga that’ll fuck shit up and of course here he comes fucking shit up by bumping into the D-J table causing the music to skip. Now keep in mind, this is back when D-J’s used turn tables, so bumping a table fucked up the vibe. Black Pete gets on the mic and says, ‘Yo somebody come get this nigga please. He fucking up my shit.’ Dude hears that and takes a swing at my boy Pete, and I’m like what the fuck! He misses Pete but now his body his falling all over the table, so of course the music stops and everyone is looking like what’s going on. I’m thinking this fool is going to stand up and calm down but of course he doesn’t. Dude starts talking mad shit to Pete and I’m just standing there off to the side. Dude never sees me, but I’m getting pissed cause I see Keisha trying to get over here to see what’s going on and I’m thinking, man damn here we go again and not to mention, Pete is my home boy, so I say, “Come on dude”. Then the nigga turns to me and says, ‘Fuck you’, and I snap and swing my bottle of Corona at the idiots head and it knocks his ass out. Of course all you here is the moans for the spectators. I’m all in now, cause I’m beating the shit out of dude now and Pete slamming his cases of records on the nigga’s head. Next thing I know someone is pulling my left arm saying, ‘let’s go, let’s go’. That nigga was strong too cause I couldn’t get no more hits with my hands, but I remember kicking buddy all in the ribs as I’m being pulled off of him. By the time I’m finally completely off of dude I turn to see who’s pulling me and I don’t know the nigga pulling me so I push his ass away and he’s like, ‘Naw, popo on they way, let’s go!’ Shit, I came to my senses and we ran the fuck up out of there. Ended up in this nigga’s car hauling ass up out of there. Dude starts asking me what happened and this-and-that and I’m like nigga who are you. He’s like we went to the same school and I’m like huh, elementary school??? Who the fuck remembers that shit. Man at that point, I’m just trying to get as far away from that pool party as possible. Once my heart settles and things are calmed, I’m like thanks dog, and he says “No prob big homie, I’m Ty”. Black Ty and myself would end up having so many stories to tell later in life, but that was his come up moment and many ways it was mine too because it would tie in to other things later down the line. But, later I’d learn that Ty was waiting on a chance encounter to get into this game and he found it that night. Man, that nigga that got his ass beat was one stupid motherfucker!!! I wonder if he ever looked back at that night like what the hell was I thinking! This is my life and my name is JADE

My Fear

My fear is that I become so immune to hurt that nothing hurts me. It’s get a little old pretending to be ‘ok’. Sometimes I’m not ok. Sometimes I’m hurt and sometimes I want someone to recognize that I am and go above and beyond for me to make it better. Geez, I’ve read so many things about those that keep or have a tuff skin, and while I know I do, sometimes having such a skin is fucked up! I bury things deep some times and it slowly changes me in different ways. I know it’s something that’ll be a part of me, but man sometimes I want someone to grab a shovel and dig and not cause more things to just be buried alive. Behind these smiles are rivers of tears that’ll never flow free…. Yea that’s my fear.

Daddy Held Me First

Daddy held me first Daddy carried me first I’ve been with him from his very creation At all cost he, protected me And even at the slightest hint of harm to me, he’d clench up for protection I had many brothers and sisters, yet I’m the only one of us too ever see light My daddy gave me strength and determination, which I needed for my journey I pressed, pulled, fought and swam my way to become who I am today It’s my daddy’s DNA that gives me this color, these eyes, and even the hairs on my body It’s my daddy’s DNA that gives me my voice, my walk and even my height My daddy has given me so many things, all of which I am thankful for But most of all I am thankful that my Daddy held me first

Excuse Me Mama

Excuse me mama Mama, what’s wrong? Why are you so mad? Mama, are you crying? I think all daddy wanted to do is see me Is that wrong? Do you not want me to see daddy Mama, stop crying I’ll start not liking daddy too, if you it makes you happy Mama I’m sorry. I won’t tell you how much I love going with daddy anymore Mama, mama are you listening I promise Mama daddy always gives me hugs and kisses in stuff, but imma tell him to stop Are you crying cause I was on the phone with daddy Cause if so, I won’t do that anymore Excuse me mama, but are you listening to me???

Dreamer

What if I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into a space of tranquil peace? If I let everything, everyone and every care escape me, would I then be at a place of rest? Would all I, you and so many others find this to be a false sense of reality? If I found sustainment in that moment, would I return the same? Heck, would I even wish to return? Is it, or is that what abandonment is? If even through a glimpse of unobtainable space I find that calm that many seek, am I a lessor person? I mean, think about it for a second; from the moment bells ring and you no longer push the snooze, you’re chasing and end to what has just begun… – that is a real reality that most find themselves repeating over-and-over again. That typical clock chasing mentality that ends at the same place and the same time as it did the day before…Sooooo, I ask, if my daydream or my desire to escape this pattern is looked upon as a defeated mindset, how do I bring my dreams into my real days? If not for my imagination these words would never stick to the paper of which I write them on. If not for the peace of which I’ve never seen except through closed eyes, I could not ponder the ‘what if’s’ or the ‘how to’s’. Does my drifting lend to productivity or wastefulness? Oh, how this peace that I speak of has granted me such access to possibilities. I’m beginning to see that those things I seek must become my reality because they are what defines my dreams of hope.