What can I say about this past year that does not include the words bombed-out and depleted?
My mom? Gone.
My uncle? Gone.
Stability in the hood? Gone.
Retreating to the safety of a gated condo? Indeed.
I found out a lot about myself in 2011. I discovered that I really had been living all this time. When my mom died on March 1, I looked at myself in the mirror for a while trying to figure out what remained. I guess all that remained was me. A bit thinner. Worse for wear. But I was still in there.
I thought I would never laugh again. Sometimes I do. I thought I would never eat a good hot meal again, since my mom loved to cook. I have. I thought I would die. I'm still here.
Then the fools broke in to my home. Again, thought I would die. Thought life was continuing on it's downspin. It wasn't. It was making me stronger. Prepping me to pull myself together. Then I found myself questioning my then relationship. The realization hit me that I needed not question what I was staring at. Instead, I needed to question whether it was useful. It wasn't. I unpacked it.
So here I stand with the wreckage of 2011 right behind me. Present and accounted for.
