1/ You: “‘How do you even know how you feel? You’re still young.’”
I listened in silence as you reflected on the response your parents gave when you told them who you are. And because they were seemingly older and wiser, you said OK.
But you knew. Even then, you knew.
Yup.
2/ Me: “When did you know?”
You: “I feel like I knew for a while. But for a long time I kept telling me what they kept telling me.”
*silence*
You: “I’m young. And that maybe the right person hadn’t come along yet.”
Me: “Damn.”
You: “Yeah. Damn is right.”
Hmm.
3/ You stared straight ahead and sighed.
You: “A piece of me wishes my family was just fully opposed, you know? This quasi-openmindedness combined with this idea that I was ‘too young to know’ sucked.”
Me: *listening*
You: “Then again. . . I don’t know.”
1/ If I close my eyes, I can see it
My daddy in a faded tank top
Standing in front of a rusted, half barrel grill
Uncles and aunties slapping down dominoes
On rickety folding tables
Wet with condensation from cold drinks
And us with our feet in a circle
To pick who would be it
2/ If I listen hard enough, I can hear it
Gravelly laughs and nicknames
Hard finger snaps to the O’Jays
or Frankie Beverly & Maze
“Hot Peas and Butter! Come and get your supper!”
The explosion of bare feet running
Cornrows with beads on the end clatter
A screen door slams
3/ If I inhale deeply, I can smell it
BBQ from a charcoal grill
a wad of bubble gum
Hot combs on kitchen stoves
and sizzling Blue Magic hair grease
My Auntie’s perfume when I kiss her cheek
And tell her that the “Sock It To Me” cake is good
I'd just gone hard on some #motivationalinterviewing about smoking cessation with a Grady elder one day. We talked about his grandbabies and his life. We even talked about his "nature."
He was looking deep into my eyes--like it was really resonating.
Yup.
2/ Me: "Well?"
Him: "Well what?"
Me: "What're your thoughts?"
Him: "My thoughts 'bout what?"
I groaned. He was tickled.
Me: "Sir! About quitting smoking?"
He raised one eyebrow at me and laughed again. This raspy, gravelly chuckle.
Him: "Miss Manning?"
3/ Me: *listening*
Him: "Tell me. Have you ever had somebody piss you off on a hourly job real, real bad--then step outside, flick your lighter, and then take a good, hard drag on a menthol cigarette?"
Her: "Um. . . the family invited us to the funeral. Dr. Manning, how do you handle something like that?"
Me: "Like what?"
Her: "Like being invited to a patient's funeral."
Me: "When I am, I'm honored. So if I can go, I go."
Her: "You do?"
Me: "I do."
2/ Her: "Should I go?"
Me: "Do you want to go?"
Her: "I do."
Me: "Then let's go.”
Her: *smiles*
Me: *smiles back*
And so. On a wintry Saturday, we met up at our patient's church. And from the countless cars surrounding every inch of the building, the love was evident.
Yup.
3/ "Loooord...help me to hold out...until my change has coooome. . ."
Those are the words that the mass choir lifted over the sanctuary as loved ones walked down the center aisle into our patient's homegoing service that next day.
“Bad intentions aren’t a prerequisite for something to be considered a #microaggression.”
Funny how our own words and lessons can come back to tap us on the shoulder.
Let me explain.
2/ All of our luggage was clustered near the front porch. It was about five minutes to the hour that we had to be fully vacated from the house that we’d rented for spring break.
Everyone was scrambling about and making sure we had everything after a lazy week of relaxing.
Yup.
3/ The hatch was up on the back of my car and my teen son was loading in bags with me.
That’s when I noticed a gentleman walking toward me from what appeared to be a truck filled with cleaning items. I could see that he was accompanied by some others gathering what they’d need.