(ThyBlackMan.com) Today I received THAT phone call. You know THAT phone call. It’s THAT phone call that no one hungers, no one craves. There’s no race. There’s no rush to THAT particular phone call. Its remnants are slow to swallow, hard to hold down, difficult to
digest.
All communication is controlled; that is, until too many damn memories; burst through too many damned eyelids; flooding too many damn faces; with too many damned tears; all fomenting and arousing an array of imagined, and unimagined, uncertainties.
No. This is not a phone call that needs my immediate attention. No. It’s not a conversation in which I’m even willing to engage. I’m too cowardly. I’m too afraid. I’d rather run from reality. I don’t desire to hear THAT which others seem socially obligated to inform me. I’m glad that I’m not a mind reader. Maybe I’ll just avoid THAT phone call, altogether. Yes! I’ll pretend that I don’t know what I do know. But, No! That wouldn’t be right. Instead of thinking of myself; feeling sorry for myself; how do I honor the one who made me: myself? Perhaps I should honor her by being honorable, yet practical.
I’m at a crossroad. I’m thinking and grieving about me when I should be thinking and grieving about the loss of my best friend; who also moonlighted as my copy editor. I mean this recently deceased woman, Carolyn, alongside her late husband, Bruce, actually edited and revised the story of my life. For example, prior to meeting my soul’s saviors, I was running amuck with souless souls whose souls were previously sold to devilish merchants of mass misery.
I mean, DAMN! Yes! I know! It’s a bloody Nutty World! Wow! That reminds me of my good friend: Damion WORLD Hardy and his nemesis: Ivory NUT Davis. It saddens me that they both waged, and then aggressively engaged, in a winless and senseless war.
IF THEY ONLY HAD A YOU!! Trust me! Their lives would’ve been vastly different. How different? I don’t know exactly how different; but, definitely different. How do I know? It’s because of you that my life is definitely different. For example, a few years back, I was peddling my literary wares up in Harlem, NY. A soul sista paused and peered at my makeshift book store.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “ My name is Malaika Adero. I’m a senior editor at Simon and Schulster. I’m hunting for a good read.”
I gifted her my game.
I don’t know if Ms. Adero is a speed reader or not; but, she phoned my phone a few hours after our initial interaction. “Hey, Saint Solomon. I loved the book. I’m on my way to Africa. As soon as I get back, we need to chat.” It was about this time that Ms. Arinde, editor of the NY Amsterdam newspaper, offered me an invitation to join the NY Amsterdam newspaper family; as a staff writer/contributing columnist. Foolishly, I deferred with kindness. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t have digged the gig; however, truth be told, I simply did not posses the confidence needed to get the job done!
Those insecurities were cremated alongside your ashes……….Love you, see you on the other side.
Saint Sol
Staff Writer; Saint Solomon
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