Reflecting on the relocation and cleansing of space.
September 2021

    How do you say goodbye to a place that was a prison? How do you carry the memories attached to that location? How will you recall all the lessons learned, all the conversations, and attempts at greatness only known of within its walls?

    I left a lot of things in this space, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. I made my peace with the domicile that nearly had me without air to breath and less blood to bleed. I no longer have to share space with a scammer landlord, or the racist microaggressive tenants next door, or their accomplice just below them.

    All at once a weight has been lifted, the anchor cut and set free: I float above it all. There was a time when a shelter was all that was required. Now, more than a roof and four walls, peace is desired.

    I don't have a clear cut plan, but my path is golden. I can see it, and regardless of whether its present for others or not, I have yet to lose the plot.

      As a child, all I wanted to be when I grew up was happy. As an adolescent, the same. As a teen, the same. As a young adult, the same. At present, the same.

    What makes me happy? Taking care of those that I love and love me. Seeking out truth, shining light within the darkness, hearing and learning from those I cross paths with, envisioning, planning for and executing community oriented equitable initiatives.

    Fifteen years ago, within a courthouse cell, I prayed for a second chance. When one was given, I decided I would kill that shit. In spite of all the negativity and darkness that I found while journeying, I managed to do everything I set out to do and completed several side missions along the way.

    A community accepted, supported and sustained me for ten years. A community made space so that I could say, one day, on this day, today, that I am who I set out to be and I have done what I set out to do and more.

    Not saying goodbye, just saying that I'll see you later.