Tick. Release.

Slow Leak Memories

Random Thoughts. Cafe. Milk & Honey. Designing. A group of women behind me discussing their late night experience with the Septa train at the Trenton, NJ station. Whitney Houston playing on Pandora.

Thoughts of my mother emerge from my memories. Good memories. Memories of my mom singing lyrics of Whitney, loud & proud. Celebrating her life as a black woman, in front of her 2 young boys. Driving us to choir practice, while we sink our teeth in our McDonald’s lunch. Sometimes. Most of the time, BurgerKing- Having it our way, as my mom celebrated her life, her way. Maybe even her only way to celebrate in a life of the American way.

Hard working. Dreaming of Bigger and Better. Hoping for that Big Something to arrive. I wonder if the moments, those moments of family time/ interaction ever overrode the stresses of work-life. Work always seemed to be a source of pressure. Weight. Like a weighted bodysuit. A bodysuit not of “iron” but one comprised of ‘the hustle’.

My parents, worked hard. Hard because they wanted more. A lot more.

Images, moments, memories are beginning to seep from the unknown. Spewing out the cracks of my life as I transition into my 30s. Seeping through like a gas bomb, timed. Slowly releasing thoughts, imagery, memories and feelings at an increasing rate, exposing themselves. Timer unidentified. No set time. tick. tick. tick. Release. tick. tick. Release. tick.