Into Open Arms

Reflecting on the day I was born makes me think of my mother.

At 4:32 she risked death (have I beat you over the head enough with the maternal mortality stats for black women?), insanity, and her identity to give me a chance.

I got a card in the mail from my daddy. That is his way, I love it.

He still sends me Valentine cards, too, no matter where or how old I am.

It's such a contrast to the man who doesn't do much of any of it, which is also fine by me. The man is practical which I love.

I have a midterm today.

And a pharm quiz.

I'll be at school from 8ish to 6ish....deep breaths...

Ugh. I just wanna go somewhere and write.

I'm so sick of school.

I'm on auto piolot now.

Usually I make my birthday its own holiday but we happened to have midterms, so that was out.

That's ok, there's always Paris...in 4 days. Yeah. 4. OMG.

I was saying to someone last week that I was ready to have kids not because my clock is ticking, but because I have this odd feeling of my body settling in on itself. Getting comfortable.Bones setting into their final place...fat shifting into it's final place.

"I feel old," I said.

But it wasn't upsetting. It was relief. But still odd.

I was born today, 28 years ago.

On purpose.

To people who wanted me, were waiting on me.

And for a very long time, there was only me.

It has made a difference in my life.

I think of Brittany and I am happy. And sad. And grateful.

I woke up today.

My middle name is Joy.

Today, more than ever, that means something.