This post was written 09/11/2011. While the anniversary of the attacks is a few months out, the message is still a timely one. Blessings!

All week I’ve been changing the television or radio stations. I’ve politely changed the subject or exited the conversation whenever the discussion was related to the events of 9/11/01. It is too painful to relive, too difficult to watch…

As most every American, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when the towers fell. I remember the disbelief and horror as the footage ran constantly on television and in my head.

I also recall with painstaking detail the events leading up to 10/23/03. That was the day I had to contact loved ones and advise them that our angel had been called home. Her life here on Earth was done. That shock and disbelief is also ingrained in my mind.

I am an American that has felt the rippling effects of the terrorists attacks on our country. I am a mother that knows the pain of burying a child. I’ve been a close partner to grief. At times it has been overpowering.

As I reflect on those two events today, I say a prayer. I pray for every soul lost, every parent, every child. For some, 9/11 is more than a day of remembrance. For them, it is impossible to change the channel. Their world is forever changed. TSA checkpoints, threat levels, and Patriot Acts are the least of their concerns. They work tirelessly to work through their grief and past their pain.

Today and always, thank God for the lives lost. Servicemen and women, first responders, loved ones…

Imagine leaving home to never return. Fathom sending your spouse or child off to start their day and that kiss goodbye being the last.

Savor every moment. Love as hard as you can. Be grateful. Give back. Praise God. Be blessed.

I want to be free of labels and limitations. My heart has chosen, my mind and body followed; the world says no.

The world judges me for my choices. The world labels them as anything but right. While I live amongst the world, I will stand alone when this life comes to an end. The sum of me will be measured, not by the labels I have bore but by the love that I wore.

We are embattled in wars regarding economics, politics, religion, and sexuality. I am confident that the admissions application into eternity won’t ask whether I was in the 99% or the 1. My creator will ignore my party affiliation. What I believed will bear little significance over if I believed. And to the chagrin of many, who I chose to love will pale in comparison to if I chose to walk my life in love.

Labels are for things, not people. I am human. At the end of the day, nothing more matters.

I am many things; fearful is not among them. I have faith and faith is the substance of things hoped for, evidence of things not seen. I have seen God work and move in my life and the lives of those I know. I know that He can, and because He can - I can!

And despite my faith, I am afraid. I have seen others before her emerge victorious in this particular challenge. She is my superwoman, despite the kinks in her armor, she is invincible to me. Her example fuels my fight. Her resilience refuses to let me quit. Her courage makes me want to be stronger.

And despite my faith, I am afraid. She has loved me at times when I found it hard to love myself. She has stood accountable for every mistake. She exemplifies the spirit of forgiveness. For all that she has done wrong, her beauty relegates the shortcomings to minuscule in comparison. Despite her kinks, she is my superwoman.

She has taught me everything that I know about being a woman and a mother. Whether through her perfected example or via a failed attempt, she has shaped me. I have spent my life watching her, striving to make her proud. I need more time, forever is not long enough.

God is omnipotent, omnipresent…maybe He will read this post and grant my plea. Leave this angel with us for a lifetime, maybe more.

She has been all over the place, yet her absence cannot be measured in miles. Her mind wanders off in a web of never ending, interconnected journeys. This thought triggers that one, another trickles down and sends her venturing off in an entirely new direction.

Have you seen her?

Staring in the mirror, her reflection looks the same. The spastic emotion and pondering is invisible to the rest of the world. No one else can see what is missing; they cannot tell that the very essence of her is attempting to flee.

Have you seen her?

Struggle after struggle, she is battle tested. Spirit hypersensitive from repeated attacks, she exists on edge and in a state of high alert. Her faith and intellect are at odds. Her heart wants to believe the brighter outcome; her mind urges it to be logical. There are stark differences between what has been what is and what will be.

Have you seen her?

I hear her calling for me to rescue her but she is nowhere to be found. She wants to be saved, she desperately searches for the will to free herself yet she is captive.

She is in love. She is in love with her dream, her heart’s fondest desire and she is determined to not allow her past to destroy her future. She is at odds. She is odds with the challenges that life continues to throw her way. She is in terror. She is terrified of what may be and what is not known. Afraid that her heart, barely healed from the last attack, is on the verge of being broken.

I have to find her. In doing so, I find myself…and the courage to combat my fears.

Every day with you is an adventure. You never cease to amaze me. Each time we make love is as tender as the first time and wrought with passion as if it were going to be our last. Your lips shape the words to my favorite song. My pleasure drips from your fingertips. The innermost workings of me are secretly stored in your heart. I look in eyes and see love. In your arms I feel secure. In your touch, desire thrives. We are polar opposites, each looking at the same world through a different lens. Our individual contrasts make the sum of us perfect. You are all that I am not; I offer you all that you need. There is no space unfilled, there is nothing that ails that our love can’t cure. You have loved me at my worst; I strive to give you the best in me as reward.

Your lips shape the words to my favorite song. My pleasure drips from your fingertips. Our story is as vast as the sea; deep, captivating, powerful. We have loved for a lifetime; my wish is that it lasts for eternity.

I set fire to every path I cross. At times that fire is a gift; it purifies and refines…leaves you better for having encountered me. The charred remains of who you were are blown away like ashes in the wind. The perfected you appreciates my fire. You crave its heat.

Occasionally my embers are destructive. My spark ignites a flame so incredible you’ll be thankful to make it out alive. My fire consumes you. The same heat that urges you to run also implores you to stay. Of course you stay. You naively believe that my fire is no match for you. My hue is friendly, pleasant, unassuming. Then the heat takes you by surprise.

I am used to being misjudged and underestimated. I am excited by those that regard me as of little significance. The people that fail to respect my glow are the very ones that fan the flames of my greatness.

I set fire to every path I cross.

I’ve not posted in a while. A few of my faithful supporters have inquired into why that is. In short, I’ve been missing.

Missing. Missing your scent, your touch. Missing the sound of your voice in my ear and the feel of your breath on my neck.

Missing. Missing the contentment that comes with having it all together.

Chasing. Chasing after who I’d like to become. I was getting dressed one day and caught a glimpse of who I’m supposed to be. She feels elusive. She’s stunning, she’s quick. I’m working to catch her so I’m chasing, constantly moving, in attempt to conquer my best self.

Missing. Missing moments to connect with those I care about. Missing opportunities to make a difference in my world.

In my neglect to write about my life, love, and madness, I’ve been seizing it. I’m here. Still thinking, inking out great ideas. I just took a break from drawing the roses so that I could stop to smell them.

But I’m here.

Thanks for checking in on me.

My mind tells me to let it go, move on. Logic implores that I place our memories in a box and bury it deep within nostalgia’s graveyard.

And then I see you…

I see you and logic has its ass kicked by emotion. It all comes rushing back. Your scent makes me want to drink you in. Your caress generates heat between my thighs. Your kisses are sinfully delicious.

I try my best to still the clock and make our moments last forever, alas, moments are all we have right now. Fighting the inevitable is futile, you have your life and I mine, so part ways…we must. For the most part, our separation makes my heart grow fonder. I miss you. Missing you makes the anticipation of our reunion all the sweeter.

And then logic lulls me away from my fantasy. Logic is brutal in its assessment at times. Logic never hesitates to remind me that there was a lot of life contained in the series of seasons that we did not share. Logic chides me with inference and innuendo. Logic makes me wonder about who she was, what you shared, and if it still exists. Logic forces me to consider that there could be competition for your heart.

And then I see you…

Your scent makes me want to drink you in. Your caress generates heat between my thighs. Your kisses are sinfully delicious.

I see you and I fall to emotion. I could care less about who she was and what you had. Even the best imagination would struggle to dream of something as incredible as our love. You feel too good to let go of, you are too succulent not to savor. If this life is all we have, I refuse to spend it not loving you.

Emotion is deceptive and logic is a bitch.

I’ve always been on the heavier side. I was a chubby little girl, I was thick at 13. For a few years in my early/mid-teens I enjoyed a slimmer form…and then, after childbirth, I was just fat. Not chubby, chunky, curvy, thick or any of the other adjectives folks use in reference to broader built individuals, I was fat. And I’ve been fat. And dammit, I don’t want to be anymore!

I embraced my size. I learned what looked good on my body, what colors were most flattering, and built the big girl’s dream wardrobe. Oh, I can shut down a room when I enter it, and it feels good until…

“You’re really pretty…for a big girl.”

“You’re not sloppy; some big girls can be really sloppy…” 

“Oh, I like my women thick, more cushion for the pushing.” 

“Your personality makes you beautiful.” 

“You’d be perfect…if you were smaller.” 

You get my point. All of these are actual quotes from people close to me. While I love them all, and know that they love me, it stings.

I love me, from my chubby cheeks to thick thighs and every inch in between. With confidence, you can carry off any look well, and I do. For once in my life though, I just want to feel beautiful. And sexy. Period. No dots, no commas. 

I want to be alive and healthy long enough to play ball with my grandchildren. I want to not need an oxygen mask after taking the stairs to my 6th floor office. I want to recall how it feels for my thighs not to rub together.

It is going to take hard work and determination. If I never see a single digit size, I am fine with that. I am embarking on this journey for the long haul, one day at a time. I’ll be successful too. 

Many have asked me, “Why now? To that I reply, “Why not?!”