Intimately Worded with Michelle

Category: Blogging

  • Monday’s reflection

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    Happy Monday!

    I had a pretty eventful weekend with family.  Friday night, I shared a wonderful birthday celebration with my cousin, her sisters and longtime family friends. My Autumn went to a late night movie with her friends, (late is 9:15.) I can admit that I am an overprotective mother. To Autumn and Brutus: nope, I am not changing anytime soon. My Brutus was to spend time with his brother Darius at his home.
    I don’t go out much but when I do my wardrobe advisors are vicious in their comments…after I have completed dressing: Autumn: “I don’t like those earrings with that outfit.” She finds more and hands them to me. I put them on. Brutus enters my room: “I don’t like those earrings. What is Autumn thinking? Everything else is fine.” He finds another pair and I put them on. As I am leaving and Darius is entering to pick up Brutus, Darius: “You need to go back in and put on some clothes.”  I ignore him. (All of me is covered up as usual. They not gone worry me. I dress them.) Of course, all this makes me late. At times I think they torture me for fun. I want to believe that they have no clue how many times I change clothes and how indecisive I am about my “Me.”  #mytribe
    My greatest friends are my siblings, my cousins, my family. Oh how we laugh and cut up. Love is contagious. Goodbyes include, “make sure you text us when you get home.” I am a middle child. There was no outlet or organization I attended where I wasn’t surrounded by family. School, Church, work, shopping, anywhere and everywhere somebody always knew me, whose child I was. I think at times we take for granted what we have, what we are accustomed to yet our environment can become the very foundation of our makeup, our journey.
    As I drive towards Charlotte to pick up Bru I think of my journey as a mother. I have been a mother longer than I have been a child, a teen. My oldest is 26, college grad and living in another state. My second born, Darius is 23, on his own and getting ready to be a father. I remember how I didn’t like children, didn’t want children and I laugh. My greatest fear was that I wouldn’t be a good mother.  I was afraid that I would either forget or leave my child somewhere; absent-mindly neglectful. Now, I am to be a grandmother, whew! Still quite unbelievable to me. (I’m smiling)  Of course I get lost trying to find his place….I debate with my GPS because I don’t wanna travel the Interstate. (Don’t try to figure me out.) Yes, I know there is a setting to avoid highways.  At times I have to ask Autumn or Bru how to mute my phone. I pray they don’t send me to a nursing home, which is Damien’s common threat to me.
    I finally find his place 30 minutes later. It should have been a 15 minute drive per my GPS. Darius so protectively watches me walk from my car. He tells me I am back early. I tell him they went out for drinks. Him: “You could have went with them and got some of that swing back. Bru is fine.” Of course, Brutus is not ready to leave, so I nosey around; ask questions about the new place. Me: “You check the crime rate before moving over here? You like it? Yall feel safe? You did good Darius. I noticed on the way in the parking lot is full and it is Friday night so that’s a good thing.” We leave. Darius again watches us. I smile as he braves the cold. Brutus is sleep before I pull up to the stop sign.
    Damien and Darius grew up the way I did surrounded by family, cousins. They know and understand that generational love. My Autumn and Bru know but will not truly experience the full effect of it.
    Summers were fun time. Running through fields, jumping gullies, riding bikes with sheer abandonment. Damien and Darius remember catching frogs and tadpoles; cousins defending them from neighborhood bullies while playing “rough” football. They were tiny. “We can hit him like that, you can’t.” Oh the childhood fights, the protection. Love is contagious.  None of my cousins or sisters went a second go round of having children, LOL! Only me. I’m not sure if I could have done any better as a mother but I know I always did my best for I received the best. They are happy and so am I.
    #roots #TillmanTaylor #Waxhaw
    Nesting is a huge problem for me and I think it will forever be. My wish is to have a home huge enough for every child of mine and their families to co-exist in one place. I told them they each could have their own wing and each night we could meet at the dinner table. I think it is quite doable. Of course they laugh at me. Family matters, reflecting on life is a joy. Sharing life is an unforgettable constitution. I love Saturday mornings and my favorite day of the weekend is Sunday. Make life count for you and for others.
    Soulfully aging,
    A. Michelle!

  • The Roots of Thanksgiving

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         Since my mother passed three years ago my Thanksgivings are completely different. Our Thanksgivings are so different. I’ve always cooked during this time and I enjoy it. My emotions range from being absolutely grateful yet missing her and my siblings tremendously to wondering what to do. Overwhelming. How do you start new family traditions when the Center, our Nucleus has transitioned?
         Family is everything. ​Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because I get to see all my Family—well Daddy’s side. My aunties, my cousins, my nieces and nephews, new additions to the Family. My family is huge and I love that. I travel from Charlotte to Waxhaw. My oldest lives in Virginia and his girl is from Virginia as well. In October I asked could we spend Thanksgiving with her family and the answer was yes. I wanted a change of scenery, to do something different. A week before Thanksgiving Damien calls to say, “We are coming there.” Me: “So I have to cook?” Damien, sarcastic as usual: “Well, yeah.”
           The morning of: I am up early cooking. Damien is as well. He doesn’t sleep in anymore. He comes in the kitchen, “What’s ready now? What can I eat now?” Me: “Turkey necks and rice but who eats that as breakfast, this early?” Well, Damien does. Later, I ask him to taste test my gumbo, “That’s good. Damn, that’s good.”
          Damien has to return to Virginia Friday so our time together is rushed. Seamlessly, all falls into place without me having to organize anything. We will stop in Waxhaw, two of his buddies from college will join us. Isn’t that awesome, that his college friends want to be with his side of the family? The crazy, loveable, country, ghetto, thuggin, I-love-God-but-will-cuss-and-or-cut-you, we-all-gone-eat (neighbors and strangers too), most Black family in all the world. I am so proud to be a Tillman.
          We drive the long way into Waxhaw. New developments that we haven’t seen. The town is beautiful with Autumn leaves, the colors are magnificent. The countryside, the woods bring back so many memories.  I greet my cousin “B”, who looks nothing like 61 years of age. She hugs and kisses me, “Look at you short and sexy. Keep it up.” My other cousin Sharon is just beaming with a beautiful joy and has been for the past year or so. She will not tell me her secret. She is absolutely gorgeous. Then there is my cousin Vince Edward and we argue-love as usual. He’s older than 50. He says he isn’t. I say he is. Then there is my Auntie, the matriarch, head full of gray and silver……she fusses. I smile. I listen. I tell her my baby is going to have a baby and she smiles so, she laughs as if this is the greatest thing in all the world. I tear up because I see my Daddy in her smile. I remember how important family was/is to him. No matter what went on in my life I know I was loved…am loved.
          My family….my Damien and Darius have girlfriends, long-term girlfriends. There hasn’t been any others brought around for me to meet except these two, JaNee` and Dominque.  I reflect on how their girlfriends are becoming more like daughters than friends. We have dinner at my place, Damien’s circle and my children. All is well. The laughter, the conversation and their camaraderie made my heart smile. The one from Delaware hasn’t ever had nor heard of turkey necks before and condemns us as country bumpkins before he devours them.
          My family….when Dominique bites into my collard greens, closes her eyes and sighs w/ deliciousness. She says, “This is so nasty.” We laugh. She is womb-ing my first grandchild and again my heart smiles. I remember how I would only eat my Momma’s collard greens. She would give me my very own dish to take home.  Domi has the most peculiar taste buds and I know her pregnancy has warped everything. There is still a great debate about the title of my new role. I’m not ready for the title “Grandma” because my mother was Grandma. (Doesn’t feel right, lol.)
    I like Grammy— like the Grammy awards. My children roll their eyes at this idea.  Everyone else is called Nana, Mimi, Glam-Ma or Me Maw. I don’t like Glam-Ma either.  Decisions, decisions. (huge smile)
          At one point I try to exit the room to escape the heaviness of the season, missing my parents, our time together and JaNee` says: “Next year at this time you will have the pitter patter of little feet, a baby crawling reaching for you. Expect big things next year. Different, new. Big.”  I smile, realizing that she is learning me. She won’t let me wallow, I step back in the room and tell her, “You are right.” We talk some more.
    My roots, my family, my children and now my children’s children.
    My Thanksgiving. My Life!
    Tearfully and amazingly grateful,
     A. Michelle!
     P.S. Dominique returned the next day for more collard greens.

     

  • You, my audience

    My hope is that you will see, my dream reader, within my words is Me.  I love a lot. I can encourage others yet give so little effort in encouraging myself. I am the greatest supporter in whatever your dreams are yet I will push my dreams aside because of fear….I doubt myself more than I doubt others. I will fight for you, protect you and forgive you. I believe that love conquers all. Yet, despite how strong Love is it is the most fragile and greatly misinterpreted concept, misguided method in history—present and future. But I know Love reigns as the greatest champion in all the world.

     A few insiders that make me Michelle…..I read magazines from the back to the front. I will read my favorite book and watch my favorite movie over and over again–and each time get something new out of it. This fact is very seldom due to age, when I eat french fries with a meal I consume all of them first. One has to eat fries while their hot. Cold fries are a waste of time and energy, be respectful.  I am first to reach out, touch and comfort a hurting person but will pull away if a person touches me. Oh, I give great hugs, too! A person told me this, “I love your hugs. They are not half way or soft. They are so real. Needed.”

    I love God. I believe in Jesus yet I’m no one’s chump. I think our population has watered down the characteristics of Jesus. In my opinion, He wasn’t a pushover. My confidence, guarded self-esteem is solely based on knowing God loves me….yet I ain’t no shabby chick. I am no wall flower. I believe I stand out in a crowd because of this huge smile I have. As a teen I always shyly covered my smile with my hand. (It is huge and kids are mean.)

    I am wanting and in wait to meet the love of my life. Yes!…at my age, after divorce, after four children (ages 26, 23, 12 and 9.) I love Love even though we don’t seem to agree, click or meet. (Laugh)

    I have moments of uncourageousness that have led to one profound truth: I hope. I hope a lot. I think settling is a travesty, a comfort so unwelcome to the heart, so unfair to others and to you. I choose not to write from hurt –somehow the beauty of it (writing) is taken away and “they” win.

    What are the things I hide from others? ….hurt feelings–I package them away. As well as the full bluntness of my anger, my tongue is vicious–I’m working on that. My moments of self defeat….well I take that to God. He listens His way and checks off my to do list on His own time. He has a sense of humor.

    So I hope you read my blog, my two cents, my words with an intimate knowledge of unbiased truths of me by Me.

    With hope,

    A. Michelle!

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  • That Publish button…my bloggy blog statement

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    When I write….It all passes through me. I see more in black and white than what’s in my heart. I can fix this…when I write.

    ​ My feelings, emotions are more coherent. They are tangible, loud. Emotions feel, taste, they bite. My tiny voice is loud, substantial, coherent no longer misunderstood…when I write. I’m strong, powerful, vulnerable and so transparent. It scares me, still…when I write. 
    When I write, there aren’t any rules. There are no, “You can’t.”  No incorrect grammar rules (ok, I have to make sense) but I can make up words within my own writing context, “uncourageous”— (what a wonderful word) and you as the reader know exactly what it means!  As a female raised in the South, no rules is a new phenomenon and the release is pure ecstasy.
    (Don’t get too deep with the latest intonation. lol)

    My heart seems to have no rhyme or reason but my words bleed truth, bleed, reveal my  soul. ​ My matters of the heart are not without healing, when I write. The invincible is plausible, the impossible is reasonable. ​​ I can do more, achieve more when I write. I am more than super; I am a wonder, when I write.  I feel normal yet I know this writing is unique, a gift, my very own gift. It is mine….and it frees me….it connects me…it heals me. It is me, all of me.​

    My tears spill over into smiles or a  “Wow. Now I see” ​ confirmation begins to develop new ideas. ​ My joy, the kind no one can take away centers me. God meets me write there…..and quite simply, “There” is an intimacy experienced–no longer an imagination…when I write.

    Vulnerably yours,

    ~A. Michelle!