Month: December 2025

The Last Christmas

We come to a scene in Long Island, NY. A big red house on a small side road of the only highway in or out of the hamptons. A single mother and a teenager from a class you don’t hear much about in this area. The holidays are all about traditions, this small family was surely different. The daughter, Aminah, had no wants other than to live comfortably. Something she knew was overly ambitious. The mother, Denise, was a dreamer who brought her daughter into the world in hopes to change it. With their family of two the tradition of Christmas was simple. Start shopping two weeks before and buy the tree two days before. Nothing else would be done until the twenty-third, starting with finally putting the lights and bulbs on the tree. Then all day Christmas eve the two of them will work until two or three am wrapping all the presents, putting the finishing touches on the tree, and baking at least five dozen cookies for aunts and uncles.

That was their tradition for the past decade, a smooth dance the two of them completed each year. This one would be diffrent though, and the last one the two of them would spend together. Aminah knew this despite her mother trying her best to console her. The whole year Denise had been in and out of the hospital. This was the first month they had been in their own apartment, and together, since March. Aminah had heard whisperings of Denise denying a gift of a kidney from a classmates family memeber. It seemed each day her mother grew sicker, and her biggest fears were coming true. The clock struck ten, and Denise called Aminah into her room.

“I’ll get up in an hour and we can start setting everything up.” Aminah looked at her mother, pale, slightly out of breath because she had missed dialysis for a few days. “It’s fine, mom. I can do it. Just rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

She tested the different sets of lights, putting up her favorite bulbs and mixing them with the ones they had bought the other day. Tinsel all around the tree, while she chuckled thining about he cute elves from Santa Clause breaking everyone out with it. Lastly, she wrapped her mom’s presents, there would be no cookies this year. She finished everything around five in the morning, checked on her mom before finally going to bed.

Waking up four hours later, Aminah went to her mom’s room for them to open their presents. Denise began to cry as soon as she entered the living room. “You did such a great job, Aminah! The most beautiful tree we’ve had, for sure.” As always, to her surprise, there were about ten extra presents under the tree with her name on it. Aminah still doesn’t know how her mom was able to hide her presents; they would just appear under the tree. When did her mom do it? It had looked like she hadn’t moved since the morning. Most people then watch the parades or Christmas movies, but Aminah was never a fan of these things. So the two of them tuned into the radio and switched from the Oldies station, Delilah, and BLI. Music should never stay in one decade when being listened to.

Aminah started brunch, her signature dish, scrambled eggs with cheese and pancakes. The two sat singing songs, eating, and not talking about the elephant in the room. A beautiful memory, indeed.

Fountain of Youth

I remember the year that I started to lose faith in systems. I was four or five years old and always teased.  I was fat, but wasn’t afraid of wearing belly shirts. My hair was always a mess, never becoming of a lady. My name was Ladybird regardless. I was always daydreaming about being anywhere, but where my body was at fake attention.

This one particular week was hard, a child in adult business. It started with a fight with one of my classmates, who would hold the gate for leaving time. The girl who felt like the meanest to me bit me to try and win the prize of brown nose. I will forever be stubborn about being useful; it was the only time I was seen outside of my mother. 

The same girl will end up biting me again about six years later for the same reason. What were the two of us to learn?

A pattern, you get hurt for minding others’ business.

On the last day of the week, when all the kids but three left, there was a big, beautiful Jaguar in the parking lot. We played outside, waiting for our parents to take us home. I convinced my friends that we should play with our toy cars on the beautiful, sleek expensive car. We raced  on that beautiful paint job, scratching perfect bold lines all around it. A lady came out and screamed and our parents came out apologizing. I can see then and now why it was wrong. However, I can still feel the satisfaction of that lady understanding what it feels like to lose something valuable. I had only convinced my friends because I had heard her say, “I am sorry but there is nothing we can do. The day care is in violation and must be shut down.” I bet a petty child with great intuition could rule a nation, but, the arrogance will always bring it to ruin.

Prayers

Sleep, work, break to eat, work, home, eat, and sleep again

Same thing different day

When you were a kid you were the only one who didn’t want to grow up

You were the only one that seemed to understand the truth

Nothing gets better, you can buy things to mask, but don’t get addicted

You prayed

Not having to make choices

Nothing no longer being unfair

No longer fearing letting them all down

You prayed

You understood that there was probably a plan

A plan that you didn’t know

A plan you should follow, it was neither right or wrong

You prayed to no longer be apart of that plan

You prayed for eternal sleep

Yet, here you are twelve years later with nothing on your feet

Your life in a cardboard box

People giving you looks

Pity, shame, hatred and

You pray no one else will fall to this

The Silver Cylinder

This is my safe place. Since five years old, when I came to this Elementary school, I would take solace in this space. Before school, recess, after school; now a place in my mind I go to. It kept me safe from the wind and cold in winter. In summer, it burned my skin the way that I like, candle wax that I can feel on something other than my hand.

My thoughts race as I watch the kids play on the playground. I am other and feel I can never belong. Why do I want to belong? I think of my parents, aunts, uncles and their responsibilities. Til this day even when I have a lot of responsibility I feel no one thinks me worthy. I didn’t want what they had anyway. There is nothing I want to do other than live, experience all of the things possible to experience. As a child I can understand that money allows you to do that, that some have more than others. Why does that exist when we have all we need around us? What is value when we are only living?

These are questions I was too young to ask, and only asked myself. How does a five year old with no hope answer them? Throughout the rest of my life I go through the motions knowing that I am not meeting the milestones of the world. I just couldn’t understand the reason and felt I had already lost. I breathe in, the enclosed space of the cylinder allows me to feel comfort. Warmth, heat, fire, and safety; the only feelings I can put my finger on. Sadly, to this day I can put my finger on but still don’t understand.

It’s the end of the world. I have no job. I am not living in any place. My body is here, my soul is dead, and I wonder what freedom truly is. I start to scoot out of my cylinder, the sound of my chains echoing throughout. When I was five, I’m sure I pictured myself here, yet I never gave up, only talked about it. Is it time to throw it in?

Happy Birthday, Mommy!

If my mother were still alive, she would have been sixty-four. I still can’t believe I lived nearly twenty years without her. Through my writing and my life adventures, I hope to continue to understand her. There aren’t many people to ask about her. I hope to create an autobiography showcasing what a great woman she was. When she passed, I only heard stories that made her sound crazy and lonely. She was too beautiful for that to be the only truth.