I met a man online who was a long-distance trucker
I was weary of his career and didn’t want to be a sucker
He had been driving many miles and decided to take a break
He said he was searching for that special number 8
She didn’t have to be perfect or of a voluptuous size
Just be able to carry on a conversation and intrigue his mind
Trying to find that unique someone to share his life
Who could understand, be sympathetic, and with no strife
He knew he had little time to give because he was married
Already married to the cross-country roads so he tarried
I could hear the loneliness in is voice and sensed his uneasiness
He confessed he wanted to settle down and have someone to finesse with
He admitted he chose this life of a trucker because it fit
Like a hand in a glove when he was 20 but now he’s 48ish
His career has taken its toll and now doesn’t look so great
I’ve heard with the lonely trucker comes much heartache
The more I thought, pondered, and prayed I soon saw the truth
The lonely trucker wasn’t lonely as he said, and I had the proof
Facebook photos, Instagram posts, and late-night confessions
The mask slipped and revealed the heart as I listened
City to city, house to house, bedroom door to bedroom door
No thanks, I’ll keep my heart for Mr. Right not for someone looking to score
Oh! What a crush I had
Following so close behind
Hoping and wishing he’d look back
Did he notice did he see me
Muscle bound and luscious lips on fire
If I could taste it would quench my desire
As it so happened I’d get that chance
School project alone or was it happenstance
He felt my lust for him without saying a word
Reached over pulled me in close I was weak as a bird
Taking full advantage of the minute or two alone
I felt his biceps and smelled his cologne
Mouth open tongue out desire and passion
Filled the room until the door came crash-in
Back to work you guys whew that was close
Still remembering years later passion froze
When the novel grabs me by the hand on the first page and pulls me line by line refusing to let me go, that’s when I know I’m off on an amazing adventure.
I run through the sentences like playing the game Hide and Go Seek anxiously awaiting to feel what’s about to happen next.
As the characters unfold, I talk to them as if they were my mother, my sister, or my best friend. I scold, cry and hug them wrapping my arms around their pain. My heart races to the rhythm of each word. So hard to put down even for a moment.
I look up and it’s 2 a.m., and I must go to work in a few hours. We will meet again tomorrow, same time, same place.
Some of these books are:
- Devil in a Blue Dress by Walter Mosley
- Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
- Cooked by Jeff Henderson
- Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston.
I write because I heard a voice that said, “Write what you hear.”
As I listened in closely and pressed my inner ear
I began to hear these words come together like something I’ve never heard before
It started drizzling, raining, thunder and lightning
Thumping my heart to release the caged word
Here it comes pushing the award-winning article out
Poetry, poems, stories untold yet ready to be heard
This is why I write
While living in New Jersey, I used to write to my grandmother Florida who lived in North Carolina. We developed a bond over several years through writing. I still have one of her handwritten letters that she wrote to me over 20 years ago, and it was written on pink paper.
She said in her letter these unforgettable words, “My eyes are getting dim and this will be my last letter.”
I’ve learned so many life lessons from my grandmother. Even though we didn’t see each other very much, it was like she knew exactly what I was feeling. It was if the words lifted off the page and gave me the hug that I needed.
RIP grandma, thank you for making me feel so special.
Who I Am and Why I’m Here
I started seeking out pen pals to correspond with when I was a teenager because I was bored at home and had to babysit my sisters and brother a lot. I found an ad in one of my teen magazines for pen pals and started a 10+ year penpalship with Rehmat from Ethiopia.
Rehmat sent me a photo of her and her sisters and she was beautiful. Honey brown skin with long wavy hair. Not at all what I imagined her to look like. Her five sisters where in all shades of brown with hair of different textures.
Writing to Remat helped me to learn about and appreciate my ancestry.
Who I Am and Why I’m Here
I had to go on dialysis because my kidney’s were failing. When I was on dialysis it was painful from the needle sticks, and very frustrating seeing many doctors and nurses. My life seemed like I was walking through a dark tunnel with no light in sight. There was even a time that I didn’t think I would live through it.
I am still here, not just surviving but thriving. I work everyday, enjoy my family and friends and do some traveling too. One of my articles was published online: National Kidney Foundation.
An unexpected visitor came to see us, and his name was Hugo. We were warned that he was on his way to South Carolina from the Caribbean. He was a threat to everything we owned including our homes, cars, and our lives. We had to take his visit seriously.
When he banged on the door, he brought with him high winds, massive flooding, and devastation without repentance. People had to board up their windows and doors. Many had to evacuate the low-lying areas along the coast.
We frantically prepared the best way we could for this unexpected event with candles, matches, flashlights, bottled water, and perishable items.
We could hear him getting closer by the whistling of the trees and the pouring rain hitting the roof like golf balls falling from the sky.
When he came to my door he didn’t wait for an answer, he beat the door trying to get in. The lights flickered then the house went pitch black. I could hear my heart beat like a drum while we waited in the dark for Hugo to leave.
Unable to move, we prayed for our safety, and for our loved ones and neighbors. Hours passed by while listening to the fierce winds ripping shingles off the rooftop. We began to get very sleepy and fell into a deep sleep.
Awakened by the bright sunlight piercing through the mini-blinds it was finally daybreak, and the worst was over. I rushed to peer out of my window to see what happened. I saw broken tree limbs and debris everywhere.
Miraculously, our home was intact. We were safe.
Hurricane Hugo traveled hundreds of miles, caused billions of dollars in damage, tore down power lines leaving many people homeless, and many fatalities. This was a Category 4 Hurricane with over 100 miles per hour winds. He came so close but turned and left us alone.
My grandmother would often say there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother, and his name is Jesus, so we sent Him an invitation that night and He came inside and stayed with us.
In all kinds of weather invite Him in.
Proverbs 18:24 … But there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother (New King James Version)
Luke 8:24 And they came to Him and awoke Him, saying “Master, Master, we are perishing!” Then He arose and rebuked the wind and the raging of the water, And they ceased, and there was a calm.
I thought I was all alone, but then suddenly a man appeared in the night and tapped on my foggy window with raindrops drizzling down his face and asked, “Are you alright, Mam?”
I said with a quivering voice, “No, I tried to make it to the exit up ahead but ran out of gas.”
He looked at my precious sons sound asleep in the backseat; one in the car seat and the other slumped over to the side, while I sat there off to the shoulder of the road in my white Chevy Chevette hatchback.
He pondered for a moment and kindly said, “I’ll get you some gas, do you have some money.”
I nervously said, “I only have $2.”
He took the money and pulled off exiting up ahead. As I sat there in the dark, shivering and cold, my two little angels in the backseat were unaware of the circumstances we were in. I noticed as 20-minutes went by that no one else stopped to inquire about us. I felt alone and had no way to call anyone.
As more time passed doubt started to set in and I cried to God, “He’s not coming back, is he?”
Then all of a sudden blinking lights pulled up close behind me, and the same man with a red gas can in his hand opened my gas cap and started filling up my empty tank. I looked up and whispered, thank you.
As the rain plummeted like bullets falling from the sky over his yellow rain coat, he tapped on the window and said, “I had to stop and buy a gas can; I needed one anyway. You are ready to go now, Mam.”
I said teary-eyed as I shook my head, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any more money to give you. God bless you.”
He said, “God bless you too,” as he went on his way.
I realized that I never had to get out of my car, get wet, nor wake up my boys. My angel.
Psalm 27:14 Wait on the Lord; Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the Lord!
I attended the Epitome Awards Gala in Dallas, TX, in October 2015. I was one of the nominees for the “Testimony of the Year” award. I won the award for an article I wrote, “I Will Live and Not Die,” which was about my spiritual and physical battle with kidney disease.
I received many warm embraces and saw many smiling faces from people who came up to me after the ceremony to congratulate me on my award and tell me how my story really touched and inspired them. They wanted my business card, wanted to know if I had a website, or if I had a blog, but I had nothing but a testimony.
I went with my family and a friend to an Italian restaurant in Dallas to celebrate and just so happened this lovely woman who I met earlier was there.
When I was about to leave, she grabbed me by my hand and started walking me toward the door, and I followed her thinking where is she taking me.
She stood me firmly by the wall next to this tall handsome gentleman wearing a black tux and she said distinctly, “Miracle meet miracle. Honey tell her your story.”
At that moment, my heart started beating faster in anticipation of what was to come because I knew this was a God moment. He began to tell me how he survived a plane crash, had many broken bones, and couldn’t walk for six years. My mouth fell open, but no words would form. I looked at him up and down as he stood next to me straight as an arrow with feet firmly planted in God, no doubt.
I replied as I stumbled over my words, “You’ve been through the fire and don’t even smell like smoke.”
I will never forget his response, he popped his collar up trying to be cool and hunched his shoulders while cocking his head to the side and replied, “I haven’t even been singed.”
I sit here in my bedroom in my comfortable white high back chair next to the window listening to the rainfall while reminiscing over the words to gospel singer Marvin Sapp’s song, Testimony, as tears well up in my eyes.
He sings, “…experienced loss at a major cost but I never lost faith in You. So if you see me cry, it’s just a sign that I, I’m still alive. I’ve got some scars but I’m still alive. In spite of calamity, He still has a plan for me and it’s working for my good and it’s building my testimony. I’m so glad I made it…”
(For more see my YouTube video in the About section).
Beep beep, curtains were drawn. Ding ding, voices, ring ring, 169 / 89 still too high. Laughter, coughing, passerby seen through the opening on the side of the curtain. TV monitor, pink and green colors, what do they mean?
IV drip, drip, needle stick, can’t look. Garbage can lid open and close, labels, vials, tests, and more tests.
Mom falling asleep. Do I wake her or slip out quietly. No, she may get startled if she wakes and doesn’t see me. I whisper mom I’m leaving. I’ll be back.