Sunday, August 5, 2018

A letter to me

Dear younger me:

Do you remember the first time we met? It was at the crossroads. Remember how we stood for what seemed like days pondering the path to take. I remember you telling me, as you pointed to the left and saying this way is crowded and even though there was safety in numbers, everyone looked the same and follows the same patterns. But I remember the unhappy expressions plastered on their phiz, as if they pondered their own individual worth based as they continued to sacrifice. Remember how we were thrown aback at the sight and how it seem like we didn't move for day, maybe even weeks,  watching them day after day, with pretty things, money, hearts filled with dreams they had not dreamed. Remember the words they spoke and it they confused us, it was if they read them from a script, one that purposely made us feel worthless, because we had no pretty things, our things were old and raggedy and sometimes torn.
Remember the day we choose a path with only a lantern in our hands to light the way. Remember how with tears in our eyes we tread through the storms while the others took shelter on back porches casting reflections and telling the stories not their own.
Remember how each day we prayed with tired feet and how our reflection, although; still a shadow took each step we took, with little money, and no pretty things, but our dreams are our dreams and our story, our story. Do you remember? I can.  It seems like only yesterday we stood at the crossroads, and even though we've made many steps since, cried many tears since that day suffered many trying times and heartbreaks. We've seen hope die in the darkest of the night and the coming of the dawn, but no matter the hills and valleys and with only a lantern to light the way we continue.  And I'd like to say how grateful I am to have taken the journey with you.
Thank you    

No comments:

Post a Comment