doux-ciel

[doux-ciel]

Hello everyone, 2021 is still shit. That’s it...that’s the post loll anyways, here I am back at it again with another short story. Well a short story preview of what’s to come. Enjoy ✨🖤

Oh and it’s called, ‘I still love you’

The paring knife glides through the white onion in a swift motion, Cahira starts to cut the slice into smaller pieces and scoots it over to the side of the wooden cutting board.

As she smelled the ground turkey cooking in the pan behind her, she felt a burning sensation in her eyes.

Squeezing them shut, she turns her head away from the cutting board; as she knows it is the enzymes from the onion that is the culprit of her eyesight being hindered for these few seconds.

Her grandmother always used to tell her to cut onions in cold water.

As always she never listened to her elders, opening her eyes she proceeds to finish chopping up the onions, placing the rest on the side and grabbing the sweet potatoes for her dinner.

After washing the potatoes off, she starts to poke little holes with a fork. Hearing her music playing throughout her kitchen, she starts to sway her 34 inch hips to the beat of the alternative band.

Just when the second chorus started she heard a noise.

“Grandad?”

Placing the potato down Cahira grips the fork in her hand, ready to charge at whoever was in her 1 bedroom apartment.

As she is walking toward the hallway which leads to the front door she feels that burning sensation again.

Cursing to herself for not just buying onion powder she wipes her eyes with the bottom of her shirt. She feels a tear slowly forming in her eyes.

“Hello?”

Cahira hears a bang on the door.

She let out a yelp, her body jumped and she then heard laughter on the other side of the door.

“Open the door yeah?”

Placing her hand over her heart, Cahira recognizes the voice immediately and swiftly opens her front door.

Leaning on the doorway; Cahira brings her hand up to her face, bringing one of her knuckles to wipe away a tear that had fallen. Her crooked smile is seen by her upstairs neighbor Jasir. “How did you know I was home?”

Jasir’s hazel colored irises lift up pondering her question, crossing his hairy cinnamon stained legs over one another. It took him a couple of seconds and he finally answered, “I just had a feeling.”

His nose catches a whiff of the ground turkey, that is currently almost to the point of burning in the pan. The 23 year old enters her home in a hurry, rushing over to the gas stove.

Observing the light brown meat turn even darker as the seconds pass Jasir’s eyes widen. He starts to yell out for Cahira who was chasing behind him.

“You can't just run here like- Oh my gosh my turkey!”

Cahira’s hand travels to the handle of the pan and dumps the ground turkey in the tupperware bowl she had cleaned earlier. Pinching her eyes shut Cahira balances the hot pan in her hands; while Jasir makes his way around the kitchen. Looking for any more potential accidents that might occur.

After gathering her thoughts Cahira places the dirty pan in the foamy warm water that sat in her stainless steel sink. She then focuses her attention on the onions she still hasn’t sautéed. Grabbing the paring knife she had earlier, she proceeds to place the raw onions in the small but hot pan in front of her.

Jasir on the other hand was looking for a dish brush, a sponge, anything to help Cahira out in any way he could.

As Cahira is stirring the onions around she noticed out of the corner of her eye, Jasir turning the faucet of the sink on and grabbing the dish soap.

Cahira’s thin mouth forms a tight smile, while shaking her head she forces herself to not veer her attention towards him. “What are you gonna do to help wash the dishes?”

He sarcastically replies, while moving his stumps on either side of his body. “No hands remember?”

Cahira drops her spoon on the spoon rest near her stove and her whole body spins around as her eyes widen. She peers down at his body, trying her hardest to hold in the laugh that was dying to come out. “You don’t have hands?”

To be continued....

[doux-ciel]

So for years black girls have had to read fanfics where y/n was automatically described as being paled skinned with long flowing hair and blue eyes. We couldn’t relate to it exactly, it excluded us, it ignored us. But we read it cause it was all that was out there. Now when we start writing fanfics for other black girls to feel included and represented, now you all are saying that you ‘‘can’t relate to it” therefore don’t support black writers when we were supporting your work all those years even though you were acting like we don’t exist within these fandoms. 

[doux-ciel]

The story continues.....2021

[doux-ciel]

Silent night

Summary: New York is known as a loud city, music blaring, people talking, this is the city that never sleeps. All Eira wanted was some peace and quiet on Christmas Eve in her Brooklyn residence. A couple with their newborn baby who live upstairs are anything but silent. As Eira will soon find out it won’t be a Silent Night.

A/N: Hello, since Halloween is over im bringing you Christmas in November. Enjoy ⛄️

11:28 p.m. December 24th.

The snow flurries fall lightly on the window seal of the old building in the city of Brooklyn, New York. The forecast hadn’t called for snow for at least 2 days after Christmas but miracles can happen.

As the snow starts to settle on the icy ground Eira, the elderly woman downstairs prayed for a miracle to happen.

That the snow didn’t stick.

That her family members would stop calling.

That the baby upstairs would stop wailing.

But alas none of her prayers go answered, as she grabs her cane and walks over to the window. Eira observes the snow sticking, she still hears her phone ringing and her ears are damn near ringing because of the baby upstairs.

Eira enjoyed her silence, ever since she became a widow it has been pretty quiet in the 1 bedroom apartment lately. Her late husband used to love Christmas, she could see him now. Trying his best to decorate the house up with everything that had to do with Christmas. Bringing out the record player and putting on one of his favorite songs. ‘Once I have you’ by the Originals. Dragging Eira out of her favorite chair in the living room and having them dance until 12 a.m. or until his knees started to get tired and he has to sit down.

A small smile appears on Eira’s face for a brief moment, thinking of the memories of her life before the sickness, before the sadness, before the heartbreak of losing her first and only husband. It was quickly replaced by a frown, and it never seemed to go away now that the signs of new life have appeared in the apartment above her; with the constant crying and arguing.

Living in New York, the term living on top of one another is true, and you hear everything that goes on in the building no matter how much you try to drown out the noise.

She has seen the young couple outside of the building, mostly for a brief moment. If she happened to go outside to water her plants or if they had both come back from getting groceries, there was a brief hello and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

That was the way Eira liked it.

No small talk.

No “how are you doing today?”

None of it.

They just minded their business and kept it moving.

Now Eira feels like she knows them more than they know her; the constant bickering, fighting, and now that a second child has been added into their growing family there will be no more silent nights.

Eira is now in her bathroom putting a lukewarm wash cloth on her aging skin, she feels the warm air circulate into the small confined space from the vent in the ceiling. She also hears the noise of the couple upstairs.

11:36 p.m. December 24th

“Shhh Moogie-bear” Hollyn coos at the crying baby in her arms. Pulling her shirt down to expose to her chest, desperately trying to get her son to latch. The 4 week old newborn had nursed 45 minutes prior but Hollyn knew it wasn’t enough and he hasn’t stopped crying since.

“Just please stop crying so mama can go to sleep” Hollyn sighs in frustration at the wailing baby in her arms. She was currently in the master bedroom, sitting in the rocking chair that resided in the corner of the bedroom.

Her husband Carsten came emerging from their eldest child’s room, with their sleeping 5 year old daughter in his arms.

“You want me to just make him a bottle?” He says calmly, knowing to tread carefully on the subject of feeding because he knows that’s Hollyn only wants to exclusively breastfeed.

Hollyn shakes her head no, the skin around her eyes are swollen and she instantly starts crying again. Her voice evident of frustration mixed with exhaustion. “I can feed my baby Carsten...just put her back to bed and try to wrap the rest of the presents.”

Kissing his teeth Carsten obliges and puts his daughter back in bed, but as he is finishing up wrapping the presents for his family he stops. Taking matters into his own hands he makes a bottle for his son and sets it on the counter.

After wrapping the presents, Carsten grabs the bottle and follows the crying that is made from his son and his wife into the bedroom once again. As he steps in the room, his son is now screaming and flailing his head around; as Hollyn is trying her hardest to get him closer to her chest.

He snaps, “He doesn’t want to nurse Hollyn, just let me feed our son!”

“No! I’m made to do this Carsten!” Hollyn pinches her eyes shut and shrieks.

Carsten’s voice is now increasing in volume, he sets the bottle down on the nightstand and squats down in front of the rocking chair; getting down to her level. “So now you want our son to starve and scream because your ego as a mother won’t let him use a bottle?”

Hollyn looks at him in silence, the only thing that is heard in the room is the crying of their son. Carsten can tell he messed up and he messed up bad.

“Hollyn” He places a hand on her exposed thigh but he feels her body tense up from his touch.

Looking up at Carsten, Hollyn parts her lips to say something, but then quickly pulls her lips back into her mouth. She places a kiss on the wet cheek of her son and places Noel in Carsten’s arms, walking out of the room without a single word.

They both knew it would be hard but they didn’t think their 6th year of marriage turn out like this. The newborn, their oldest child who still requires a lot of attention, the apartment with all of its cracked walls and broken doors, most importantly the sleep deprivation. They are both lucky enough to have PTO saved up for the first couple of weeks to bond with their son but it’s safe to say they both feel like they need a break from all of it.

Hollyn was in the kitchen trying to calm her nerves down with a cup of warm milk. Wiping away her tears she looks into their living room, a huge Christmas tree in the middle of the room and presents piled underneath.

All she wished for was a bit of peace and quiet.

And she got it.

It only lasted for 10 minutes.

After Carsten gave Baby Noel his bottle, he went right back to fussing/crying. The young couple didn’t know what to do, They had no plans of a silent night this Christmas Eve and they prayed that something...anything would get their child to rest.

11:45 p.m. December 24th

‘It just never seemed to end’ Eira thought as she tried to close her eyes to go to sleep. As she layed on her queen sized mattress. The bed felt empty, it felt cold, she felt lonely.

With the baby crying upstairs she knew she was never alone.

As she lay in her bedroom on Christmas Eve she saw the green and red lights flashing lights from one of the apartments across the street, even if she didn’t celebrate Christmas this year she still felt the spirit all around her. It made the darkness that is in her heart a little brighter.

She knew what she had to do.

Putting on a housecoat and her slippers she grabs her cane and goes into the hall closet, most of it is filled with old linens and some of her husbands old clothes. She spots the old record players and pulls it out.

The apartment is filled with the sound of Sam Cooke ‘It’s all right’

It's all right

It's all right

It's all right

Honey it's all right

Long as I know, long as I know that you love me

Baby, it's all right

When an argument would occur, whenever a nasty word was said. Whenever tensions were high in the house.

This was the song her husband would play.

This was the song that made her feel better.

Snapping her fingers, Eira starts to do a little dance in the hallway.

As she walks past the mirror, she tucks her long grey hair behind her ear and smiles at her reflection.

She knew without him, Christmas would be all right.

11:56 p.m. December 24th

The music from down below seems to get louder and louder as every second came and went.

Carsten had came into the living room, giving Hollyn a look. Both of them knew that the woman downstairs never made a bunch of noise and they definitely knew for sure that she never played music either.

Finally after many attempts to ge their youngest to stop crying, they hear the doorbell.

They knew family wouldn’t be over for the holidays so it surprised them both. Carsten cautiously approached the door while Hollyn was right behind him, baby in her arms.

As they opened the front door, they notice her long gray hair. The dazzling fresh snow appeared on her head like a halo, like a Christmas angel.

As the infants cries grew louder, Eira asks a simple question.

“Can I come in?”

Carsten turns his head looking at his wife for approval, she slowly nods and as Eira enters she is snapping her fingers and humming, ‘it’s all right’

This Christmas was going to be different.

This is going to be a Christmas to remember.

[doux-ciel]

😭😭😭😭 thank you I’m so happy that your still with me 🥺 and this story....we not going to talk about why this took so long

Gift of Life. The art of flirting

Tagged: @sugarmommamusings @harrybpoetry @seraphilth @writing-under-the-stars @godxblooded @youngdumbxlit @jadeswritinggarden @jess—writes @bambimattel @thewriterkatie @erinisawriter @viviscreams @oceanscorazon

*Im going to have a link to my post in which it asks if you want to be tagged in my WIP’S*

If so click here -> ✨ ✨ ✨

*Let me Know if you want to be added or removed*

Masterlist: 🖤 🖤 🖤

As the beginning of February rolls around; there is still snow on the ground. Nova and I are just getting out of our 3 p.m. class when I was scrolling through Facebook Nova asks, “Did you check out the place?”

As I open the door to exit the technology building I nod referring to Gifting Miracles, I look up giving her a grin. “Yeah. I think I might be a surrogate, I really need the money.”

After I let her exit her and then I follow suit; out of the corner of my right eye I see Nova’s body shivering, the strong winds mixed with the cold air was getting to her. As she begins to whine about how it was never this cold in Sussex I laugh at how she was bundled up in her scarf and gloves. She turns to me, her voice sounding muffled as her face is buried in her hands. “I get it, you better get one of those rich people, I heard they might even let you stay in there place for free.”

I scoff, while placing my phone in the pocket of my coat. “If it happens I better be staying there for free. I am carrying their baby.”

She continues to walk next to me, looping her arm underneath my right arm. “Anyway what else happened?”

I start to explain the conversation I had with the coordinator. “Well they said I needed to fill out an application which I did shortly after talking with the coordinator. She called like two days ago, thankfully I got accepted. Next is the screening, then an interview all of this should take place in spring‍.”

Her eyes light up as she looks across the campus, my eyes follow hers. I discover a hot chocolate stand and I immediately know why she led me out the door so quickly. “So exciting”

“Exciting? I’m gonna be miserable for 9 months”

“Well exciting for them…but girl just think after this you won’t have I ask your mom for nothing, now you can take of yourself”

Another arm loops around my other arm getting my attention. “Yesenia”

As if we were reading each other’s minds Nova and I rolled our eyes, while both greeting the 5’8 hockey player. “Hey Knoxx”

Knoxx gives me that signature grin, a snaggletooth peeking behind his pink lips. “You wanna come and study with me later?”

I retract my arm away from him as we walk up to the hot chocolate stand. I was currently taking 4 classes none of which he attended. Studying was his way of saying I want you drop those pants in his language. “Slow down cowboy, I thought you were hanging out with Carli tonight”

His thick eyebrows furrow into confusion as if he had no idea what I was talking about. Placing his hands in his dark blue coat his voice is taut, “Who told you that?”

Nova who was behind 2 people spoke up, “All the girls in African American history said you and her were going to sit by the fire at 6.”

Chuckling he focuses his robins egg blue eyes on anything but me. Shrugging he replies, “So what if we are?…I can get back early and spend the rest of the night with you.”

I scoff at his comment while looking at Nova, she’s giving me a thumbs down. Crossing my arms in front of my body I glare at him. “I don’t need Carli’s sloppy seconds Knox.

It was now Nova’s turn to get her desired hot chocolate, she put her order in and was waiting for her hot beverage. She turns her body towards him, letting out a breath. “Knoxx you really need to stick to just one girl”

“Listen Nova I don’t need just one girl, I’m here to help the community with my experience.”

I step closer to Knoxx; making us just inches apart from each other I whisper while lightly touching his jeans. “What experience are we talking about exactly?”

Looking up at the sky he lets out a hearty laugh. Looking directly into my eyes he states in a cocky tone. “You already know what experience I’m talking about Yesenia, so what’s your answer…your room at 7:45?”

In a simple but direct tone I answer him while hitting his arm, “You better wear a condom with her.”

“I always do” he replies, after our short conversation he says he has to go before he’s late to pick up his older brother from work and just like that he’s gone.

Nova while taking a sip of her hot beverage asks, “Why do you two use each other like that?”

My lips twist up and I let out a sigh. “Nova I don’t want to hear it”

“No, I’m going to tell you Yesenia you need to find-”

I interrupt her waving my left hand in the air, “I know I know, a nice guy who will treat me right”

Nova rolls her eyes, “Exactly…so why aren’t you doing it?”

“Because he’s great in bed”

“Yesenia!!”

“What I’m serious, that man know how to make a girl scream.”

“Your nasty you know that?”

¤ ¤ ¤

I check the time, it is now 7:36 p.m. and I know I was late to come over to my mother’s house and clean up for her. Knowing she gets off around 7 p.m. I need to get started.

Just as I was rising up from my seat on the city bus I receive a text from Knoxx.

After our “study session” which lasted longer than usual I knew I was going to spend the night on my mothers couch. My mind is telling me no but my body is reacting differently. Brushing that feeling away I walk off the city bus and make my way to her front door, putting the key in the lock I unlock the door and slowly open it.

“Mom?”

Looking around the small apartment I see her shoes by the door but I don’t see her, she’s probably taking her bath. So instead of interrupting I decide to set my coat on the nearby coat rack and begin to start the cleaning process of my mothers 1 bedroom apartment.

As I’m cleaning I remember the memories of her waking me out of my sleep on a Sunday morning with Salsipuedes playing loud like we didn’t have neighbors right next to us.

After about 15 minutes of cleaning the living room which consisted of  vacuuming, dusting,  I even wiped off the clock that was on the wall. I begin to make my way over to the kitchen, I immediately go to the oven and take out the various pots and pans that lay in the small convection oven and place them on the nearby counter top.

After I get all of the kitchen cookware in their correct places, I bend down near the stove to start cleaning when I hear my mother’s voice behind me.

“Que demonios” (what the hell) I feel my mother walk closer to me, turning my head I see her seamed face with her large nose flared, her thick dark brown eyes arched upwards as her lips frowned.

“Que” (What) I answer, my eyes shifting back and forth from the living room and back to her.

Rolling her eyes she turns her head the other way looking away from me, she suppresses her anger with a huff. Placing her hand on my shoulder, “Why do you clean up for me some days of the week when you know I can clean for myself? It’s what I do mija.”

“Mom I know you’re tired when you come home…besides I want to help you like you’ve helped me”

She chuckles, “I’m your mother it’s my job to help you…or else CPS would’ve got involved a long time ago.”

She clicks her tongue, moving quickly to gather the pots and pans. “¿Por qué mueves mis ollas y sartenes?” (Why are you moving my pots and pans?)

“Here we go” I mouthed.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing mom” I mumbled.

“You didn’t clean the living room right either” she ranted as she points to the coffee table which had a small piece of dust on it.

My mouth ajar at her comment, I rise up from my bended position placing the sponge in the sink I exclaimed. “I cleaned it exactly how you showed me!”

Her eyes slowly lift up towards me face, “Are you getting loud with me?”

Met with nothing but silence on her end, her eyes shooting daggers my way I stand there with my mouth shut and my eyes focused on her.

I see her walk to the sink, “Let me clean, I can clean my own place” getting ready to start on the dishes she loses her balance and bumps into the counter.

I rush over to her placing my hand on her arm, she winces in pain as she quickly retracts her arm from my hand, “Don’t touch…I’m fine”

Her job working as a housekeeper for this rich family is taking a toll on her body, everyday for the past 3 months she has come home tired, aching and she can barely cook dinner for herself. It angers me to see my mother in so much pain but she just takes it as working hard but I’m seeing it as nearly killing herself for a paycheck.

She has now started to wash the dishes, she has a cup in her hand and she is running it over the water.

Kissing my teeth with a frown etched on my face I walk up to her taking the sponge out her hand, “Your tired mom please go sit down”

She tries to grab the sponge from me, “Pero-” (but)

I give her a stern look while bumping my hip to hers, motioning her to move away from the sink, “Ve y siéntate” (go and sit down)

As I’m putting up the clean towels and washcloths that I had folded; I rest on the couch near my mother.

Placing my head on her shoulder, I breath in the faint smell of lavender on her skin as she places her arm around me.

“Whats going on?” She asks with her eyes closed.

“Hmm?” I replied.

Kissing her teeth she asks again, “With you Yesenia? Your schooling”

Grabbing a nearby pillow I start to meddle with the beading, “Don’t worry about it mom”

I look over at her waiting for a reaction, she opens her eyes and her eyebrows draw together, “Don’t worry? My daughter is now attending college and might not graduate and you want me to be fine with it?”

“I’m handling it”

In the back of my mind I was freaking out because I don’t know if the surrogate agency is going to place me with a family who can pay me the money I’m needing to pay off my schooling. Lying to her and to myself I look into her eyes seeing the bags underneath; I take her hands into mine. Giving her a faint smile,“Yes it’s all under control.”

“Yesenia…”

Shushing her I lead her over to her bedroom, as she sits down on her very old queen sized mattress I start to lift her feet up to place them under the covers. I quietly say to her, “Your always taking the weight of the world on your shoulders” As she gets comfortable in her current position, I place a kiss on her forehead and walk over to the entryway, turning my head to see her one last before I leave the room.

“Not this time” I whisper, flicking the light off I close the door and let my mother get the rest she deserves.

[doux-ciel]

Gift of Life. The art of flirting

Tagged: @sugarmommamusings @harrybpoetry @seraphilth @writing-under-the-stars @godxblooded @youngdumbxlit @jadeswritinggarden @jess---writes @bambimattel @thewriterkatie @erinisawriter @viviscreams @oceanscorazon

*Im going to have a link to my post in which it asks if you want to be tagged in my WIP’S*

If so click here -> ✨ ✨ ✨

*Let me Know if you want to be added or removed*

Masterlist: 🖤 🖤 🖤

As the beginning of February rolls around; there is still snow on the ground. Nova and I are just getting out of our 3 p.m. class when I was scrolling through Facebook Nova asks, “Did you check out the place?”

As I open the door to exit the technology building I nod referring to Gifting Miracles, I look up giving her a grin. “Yeah. I think I might be a surrogate, I really need the money.”

After I let her exit her and then I follow suit; out of the corner of my right eye I see Nova’s body shivering, the strong winds mixed with the cold air was getting to her. As she begins to whine about how it was never this cold in Sussex I laugh at how she was bundled up in her scarf and gloves. She turns to me, her voice sounding muffled as her face is buried in her hands. “I get it, you better get one of those rich people, I heard they might even let you stay in there place for free.”

I scoff, while placing my phone in the pocket of my coat. “If it happens I better be staying there for free. I am carrying their baby.”

She continues to walk next to me, looping her arm underneath my right arm. “Anyway what else happened?”

I start to explain the conversation I had with the coordinator. “Well they said I needed to fill out an application which I did shortly after talking with the coordinator. She called like two days ago, thankfully I got accepted. Next is the screening, then an interview all of this should take place in spring‍.”

Her eyes light up as she looks across the campus, my eyes follow hers. I discover a hot chocolate stand and I immediately know why she led me out the door so quickly. “So exciting”

“Exciting? I’m gonna be miserable for 9 months”

“Well exciting for them...but girl just think after this you won’t have I ask your mom for nothing, now you can take of yourself”

Another arm loops around my other arm getting my attention. “Yesenia”

As if we were reading each other’s minds Nova and I rolled our eyes, while both greeting the 5’8 hockey player. “Hey Knoxx”

Knoxx gives me that signature grin, a snaggletooth peeking behind his pink lips. “You wanna come and study with me later?”

I retract my arm away from him as we walk up to the hot chocolate stand. I was currently taking 4 classes none of which he attended. Studying was his way of saying I want you drop those pants in his language. “Slow down cowboy, I thought you were hanging out with Carli tonight”

His thick eyebrows furrow into confusion as if he had no idea what I was talking about. Placing his hands in his dark blue coat his voice is taut, “Who told you that?”

Nova who was behind 2 people spoke up, “All the girls in African American history said you and her were going to sit by the fire at 6.”

Chuckling he focuses his robins egg blue eyes on anything but me. Shrugging he replies, “So what if we are?...I can get back early and spend the rest of the night with you.”

I scoff at his comment while looking at Nova, she’s giving me a thumbs down. Crossing my arms in front of my body I glare at him. “I don’t need Carli’s sloppy seconds Knox.

It was now Nova’s turn to get her desired hot chocolate, she put her order in and was waiting for her hot beverage. She turns her body towards him, letting out a breath. “Knoxx you really need to stick to just one girl”

“Listen Nova I don’t need just one girl, I’m here to help the community with my experience.”

I step closer to Knoxx; making us just inches apart from each other I whisper while lightly touching his jeans. “What experience are we talking about exactly?”

Looking up at the sky he lets out a hearty laugh. Looking directly into my eyes he states in a cocky tone. “You already know what experience I’m talking about Yesenia, so what’s your answer...your room at 7:45?”

In a simple but direct tone I answer him while hitting his arm, “You better wear a condom with her.”

“I always do” he replies, after our short conversation he says he has to go before he’s late to pick up his older brother from work and just like that he’s gone.

Nova while taking a sip of her hot beverage asks, “Why do you two use each other like that?”

My lips twist up and I let out a sigh. “Nova I don’t want to hear it”

“No, I’m going to tell you Yesenia you need to find-”

I interrupt her waving my left hand in the air, “I know I know, a nice guy who will treat me right”

Nova rolls her eyes, “Exactly...so why aren’t you doing it?”

“Because he’s great in bed”

“Yesenia!!”

“What I’m serious, that man know how to make a girl scream.”

“Your nasty you know that?”

¤ ¤ ¤

I check the time, it is now 7:36 p.m. and I know I was late to come over to my mother's house and clean up for her. Knowing she gets off around 7 p.m. I need to get started.

Just as I was rising up from my seat on the city bus I receive a text from Knoxx.

After our “study session” which lasted longer than usual I knew I was going to spend the night on my mothers couch. My mind is telling me no but my body is reacting differently. Brushing that feeling away I walk off the city bus and make my way to her front door, putting the key in the lock I unlock the door and slowly open it.

“Mom?”

Looking around the small apartment I see her shoes by the door but I don't see her, she’s probably taking her bath. So instead of interrupting I decide to set my coat on the nearby coat rack and begin to start the cleaning process of my mothers 1 bedroom apartment.

As I'm cleaning I remember the memories of her waking me out of my sleep on a Sunday morning with Salsipuedes playing loud like we didn't have neighbors right next to us.

After about 15 minutes of cleaning the living room which consisted of  vacuuming, dusting,  I even wiped off the clock that was on the wall. I begin to make my way over to the kitchen, I immediately go to the oven and take out the various pots and pans that lay in the small convection oven and place them on the nearby counter top.

After I get all of the kitchen cookware in their correct places, I bend down near the stove to start cleaning when I hear my mother’s voice behind me.

“Que demonios” (what the hell) I feel my mother walk closer to me, turning my head I see her seamed face with her large nose flared, her thick dark brown eyes arched upwards as her lips frowned.

“Que” (What) I answer, my eyes shifting back and forth from the living room and back to her.

Rolling her eyes she turns her head the other way looking away from me, she suppresses her anger with a huff. Placing her hand on my shoulder, “Why do you clean up for me some days of the week when you know I can clean for myself? It’s what I do mija.”

“Mom I know you're tired when you come home...besides I want to help you like you’ve helped me”

She chuckles, “I'm your mother it’s my job to help you...or else CPS would’ve got involved a long time ago.”

She clicks her tongue, moving quickly to gather the pots and pans. “¿Por qué mueves mis ollas y sartenes?” (Why are you moving my pots and pans?)

“Here we go” I mouthed.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing mom” I mumbled.

“You didn’t clean the living room right either” she ranted as she points to the coffee table which had a small piece of dust on it.

My mouth ajar at her comment, I rise up from my bended position placing the sponge in the sink I exclaimed. “I cleaned it exactly how you showed me!”

Her eyes slowly lift up towards me face, “Are you getting loud with me?”

Met with nothing but silence on her end, her eyes shooting daggers my way I stand there with my mouth shut and my eyes focused on her.

I see her walk to the sink, “Let me clean, I can clean my own place” getting ready to start on the dishes she loses her balance and bumps into the counter.

I rush over to her placing my hand on her arm, she winces in pain as she quickly retracts her arm from my hand, “Don’t touch...I’m fine”

Her job working as a housekeeper for this rich family is taking a toll on her body, everyday for the past 3 months she has come home tired, aching and she can barely cook dinner for herself. It angers me to see my mother in so much pain but she just takes it as working hard but I’m seeing it as nearly killing herself for a paycheck.

She has now started to wash the dishes, she has a cup in her hand and she is running it over the water.

Kissing my teeth with a frown etched on my face I walk up to her taking the sponge out her hand, “Your tired mom please go sit down”

She tries to grab the sponge from me, “Pero-” (but)

I give her a stern look while bumping my hip to hers, motioning her to move away from the sink, “Ve y siéntate” (go and sit down)

As I'm putting up the clean towels and washcloths that I had folded; I rest on the couch near my mother.

Placing my head on her shoulder, I breath in the faint smell of lavender on her skin as she places her arm around me.

“Whats going on?” She asks with her eyes closed.

“Hmm?” I replied.

Kissing her teeth she asks again, “With you Yesenia? Your schooling”

Grabbing a nearby pillow I start to meddle with the beading, “Don't worry about it mom”

I look over at her waiting for a reaction, she opens her eyes and her eyebrows draw together, “Don't worry? My daughter is now attending college and might not graduate and you want me to be fine with it?”

“I'm handling it”

In the back of my mind I was freaking out because I don't know if the surrogate agency is going to place me with a family who can pay me the money I'm needing to pay off my schooling. Lying to her and to myself I look into her eyes seeing the bags underneath; I take her hands into mine. Giving her a faint smile,“Yes it’s all under control.”

“Yesenia…”

Shushing her I lead her over to her bedroom, as she sits down on her very old queen sized mattress I start to lift her feet up to place them under the covers. I quietly say to her, “Your always taking the weight of the world on your shoulders” As she gets comfortable in her current position, I place a kiss on her forehead and walk over to the entryway, turning my head to see her one last before I leave the room.

“Not this time” I whisper, flicking the light off I close the door and let my mother get the rest she deserves.

[doux-ciel]

Hello....I’m back 🙃

[doux-ciel]

gentle reminder

i am sending hope and encouragement your way today

[doux-ciel]

Just because I dont know shit about anything doesnt mean I'm not a genius

[doux-ciel]

Finding out you’re going to be a mother is like accepting one of the most prestigious jobs in the world, but for women in the athletic industry, it’s one that also comes at a very expensive price point.

In May, Allyson Felix, who now holds the record for earning the most gold medals in World Championships history, opened up about how starting a family required her to take a 70% pay cut from her Nike endorsement deal. Recently, in a shocking tweet, WNBA player Skylar Diggins-Smith revealed that she was scoring buckets with a baby full of belly for an entire season due to fear of lack of support from her organization.

The Indiana-born 29-year-old Dallas Wings player started her professional career in 2013 and six years later, after becoming a four-time WNBA All-Star, wife, and mother, spoke her truth via Twitter last weekend.

Athletic companies don’t seem to care about Black mothers and athletes like Allyson Felix and Skylar Diggins-Smith refuse to be silent about it any longer. Skylar, who gave birth to her first child in April, first announced her pregnancy last October nearly two months after finishing out the five-month season.

Since then, she has taken maternity leave to focus on her family and received backlash from internet trolls and sports fans alike as a result of her absence. But Skylar had a classy clapback for her critics and opened up about that she had been hiding from the world for months:

“I played the ENTIRE season pregnant last year! All star, and led league (top 3-5) in MPG….didn’t tell a soul.”

In the tweets, Skylar also revealed that postpartum depression had played a huge part in both her hiatus from the sport and her new journey as a mother. Although WNBA rules state that if a player becomes pregnant, they are entitled to half their salary and have all of their medical bills paid, it’s unclear if Skylar’s employers kept up their end of the deal because the athlete went on to say that she was offered “limited” resources for recovery. 

Read more

Black women in American face the highest infant mortality rates. The amount of stress, disrespect, pressure, ridicule and health disparities that Black women are subjected to during and post-pregnancy, jeopardizing the wellbeing of our children and ourselves to be everybody else’s content and willing superhero mule 24/7 is fucking insane. Why can’t we too enjoy our pregnancies and be treated with care and respect?…

AMERICA IS FAILING ITS BLACK MOTHERS

For decades, Harvard Chan alumni have shed light on high maternal mortality rates in African American women. Finally, policymakers are beginning to pay attention.

Serena Williams knew her body well enough to listen when it told her something was wrong. Winner of 23 Grand Slam singles titles, she’d been playing tennis since age 3—as a professional since 14. Along the way, she’d survived a life-threatening blood clot in her lungs, bounced back from knee injuries, and drowned out the voices of sports commentators and fans who criticized her body and spewed racist epithets. At 36, Williams was as powerful as ever. She could still devastate opponents with the power of a serve once clocked at 128.6 miles per hour. But in September 2017, on the day after delivering her baby, Olympia, by emergency C-section, Williams lost her breath and recognized the warning signs of a serious condition.

She walked out of her hospital room and approached a nurse, Williams later told Vogue magazine. Gasping out her words, she said that she feared another blood clot and needed a CT scan and an IV of heparin, a blood thinner. The nurse suggested that Williams’ pain medication must be making her confused. Williams insisted that something was wrong, and a test was ordered—an ultrasound on her legs to address swelling. When that turned up nothing, she was finally sent for the lung CT. It found several blood clots. And, just as Williams had suggested, heparin did the trick. She told Vogue, “I was like, listen to Dr. Williams!”

But her ordeal wasn’t over. Severe coughing had opened her C-section incision, and a subsequent surgery revealed a hemorrhage at that site. When Williams was finally released from the hospital, she was confined to her bed for six weeks.

Like Williams, Shalon Irving, an African American woman, was 36 when she had her baby in 2017. An epidemiologist at the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), she wrote in her Twitter bio, “I see inequity wherever it exists, call it by name, and work to eliminate it.”

Irving knew her pregnancy was risky. She had a clotting disorder and a history of high blood pressure, but she also had access to top-quality care and a strong support system of family and friends. She was doing so well after the C-section birth of her baby, Soleil, that her doctors consented to her request to leave the hospital after just two nights (three or four is typical). But after she returned home, things quickly went downhill.

For the next three weeks, Irving made visit after visit to her primary care providers, first for a painful hematoma (blood trapped under layers of healing skin) at her incision, then for spiking blood pressure, headaches and blurred vision, swelling legs, and rapid weight gain. Her mother told ProPublica that at these appointments, clinicians repeatedly assured Irving that the symptoms were normal. She just needed to wait it out. But hours after her last medical appointment, Irving took a newly prescribed blood pressure medication, collapsed, and died soon after at the hospital when her family removed her from life support.

Viewed up close, the deaths of mothers like Irving are devastating, private tragedies. But pull back, and a picture emerges of a public health crisis that’s been hiding in plain sight for the last 30 years.

Read more

[doux-ciel]

forgive yourself for the stagnancy that was produced from your depression

[doux-ciel]

I deserve to have all my needs met, all of them

[doux-ciel]

wanna b held…… treasured….. really Valued if u kno what i mean

[doux-ciel]

To all the girlies thriving, I’m so happy for u! Continue to thrive and prosper and put good things out into the world because good things are happening for you! Also to my girls that aren’t thriving atm, we’ll get there! Things are rough but we’re still capable of great things and whatever we’re going through hasn’t killed us so continue to move forward 💘

[doux-ciel]

We don’t get what we deserve. We get what we ask for. So ask for more.

[doux-ciel]

hope all my girls do something beneficial to their mental health today

[doux-ciel]

I truly don’t care about being considered difficult. I said what the fuck I said. I want what the fuck I want.