…I’d pace back and forth, impatiently watching the seconds drag along the clock, rehearsing all of the things I knew I was going to say while daydreaming about sitting next to him. I would get lost in this elaborate fantasy of the house we lived in, with our perfect caramel and toffee toasted babies, luxury cars and a house so big we would need a maid and an intercom. He would always come to bed after me and snuggle me close as I feigned sleep, and I would turn over and smooch him until I fell asleep. This was my wild fantasy, my daydream, as I waited for the clock to reach 12:15, so I could call the most important human being to me in the world at that time. At 12:15 and zero seconds, I got on my rotary phone and I dialed the number, my palms are sweaty, my heart is racing, and I just know I am about to say the most poetic shit ever, the phone rings once, twice, and it gets picked up… the voice on the other end is his grandma and she is accustomed to my voice after months of calling, and I sheepishly say “Good afternoon Grandma, how are you? I’m well, may I speak to Brown Sugar, please?” She calls him, he gets on the phone and I don’t remember anything I rehearsed, I lose sight of the daydream and I am hypnotized and mesmerized by his voice, the deepness and the sweet nothings he’s saying on the line. I melt. This is 1995.
Flash forward to 2005, I am grown, living on my own, in a relationship with someone I liked enough, a great job, and I’m living the fucking dream man!!! Woohoo!!!!! Getting my whole Sex and The City on, mixed with some Living Single…who can tell me anything?????? I’m living my life, minding my business and my mind is suddenly transfixed on these Sunday phone calls. I wonder where Brown Sugar is, what is he doing? We sorta kinda stayed in touch but not really, but I really had to urge to know where he was, and well, the universe just had the idea to make sure I got what I asked for at that time. I call up a mutual friend who just so happened to be sitting next to Brown Sugar at a bar. I couldn’t understand how I even got in touch with this Rastaman and furthermore, I don’t even understand how this Rastaman just so happened to be sitting next to Brown Sugar in a country far away from me, and yet I located him with NAVY SEAL like accuracy. It’s like the universe wanted me to find him. Brown Sugar and I reconnected when we made it back Stateside, and everything we talked about on Sunday afternoons came full circle and we were now grown, and able to make ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL that child’s play a reality. Chilllllllle! Hmmmmmm! All I can say is that Sunday afternoons in 1995 paved the way for a fantastic ass reunion in 2005. All of the child’s play became a BET after dark special and there were all the red lights….you hear meeeeee?!??? lmaooooo! Chile!!!!!!
Life happens though. He dove headfirst into his life, and I dove headfirst into mine. We spoke here and there at length but for the most part, we didn’t have daily communication. Many things occurred, there were times when we weren’t good, times when we were trying to be closer, and there was a good portion of time where I was just absolutely done with that friendship. It was not always seamless and those times when we were out of touch, I put him so far out of my memory that I wouldn’t even allow myself to feel our connection. I cut off his access to me because I was really distraught and hurt by some things and I felt like what was once this bright light, this undeniable connection, and this bond we had was all for naught and maybe we finally outgrew each other. I thought maybe those children who loved each other in 1995 finally grew apart and that’s just how the cookie crumbled and I was really okay with laying our relationship to rest. It happens. No hard feelings. That’s life.
Flash forward to July 2019, SEVEN YEARS since I saw Brown Sugar in a lobby in Brooklyn, NY, we reconnected again. We have both aged like fine wine, we no longer have locs, we both have the same tattoo (which I got first), we both have children, and we are in the same space. I was always just going to be myself, and because I hadn’t seen him, been near him, or even hung out with him, I had no choice but to be who I’d become. I had to just be this woman I’ve evolved into, the person who has had her heartbroken, a failed marriage, entrepreneurship, a lot of loss, finding my voice, being the mom of an incredible young lady, and a lot more jaded, rugged yet refined and unwilling to tolerate any bullshit. I had no idea who I was meeting BUT, I had butterflies. My heart still beat madly out of my chest, the cage of butterflies busted open and when I saw him, my soul smiled. It’s like when we first kissed in 1995, in the church courtyard that linked our schools, and I went to a different dimension. The feeling you feel when you never knew you could be so satisfied and yet wanting so much more, this feeling, this thought, this nostalgia made those seven years feel like seven minutes and I was back in the company of the person who was the most important person in my life on Sunday afternoons in 1995.
We caught up. We laughed. We unpacked. We told hard truths. We compared notes. We saw glimpses into each other’s responsibilities, we saw what has kept us sane, together, angry, happy, and helping us cope. We talked about our children, and how it related to our little selves. He caught my gaze, and we lingered a little bit too long, and suddenly, I was in 1995. We walked, he held my hand, we were close, too close, got closer, and before I knew it, my face was in his hands and his lips touched mine, and I was his, again. Damn. He kissed my lips and my sweaty ass forehead, and he held my hand as we walked through the streets and he was mine, and I was his and we belonged at this moment, at this time, and I had no time to worry about the next day, or someone else, because it was this moment that I wanted to live in forever. I knew that it had to end but at that time, in that space, we were committed to the joy of that moment, it was what 1995 paved the way for, it was what 2005 was about, it was the moment in the lobby in 2011, all leading up to a summer day, in July in 2019. Despite the burying I have done, what we know from a Tell-Tale Heart is that true connection beats forevermore, yea? He and I have this way of finding each other after years and years and somehow it seems as though time bends, pauses and shapes us. He and I are connected, a forever connection that was planted on Sunday afternoons in 1995.
Raw Motherfunking Emotions 