This Treehouse is For Boys only!

I was 12. That's the last time I saw him - or what was remaining of him. Having experienced so many firsts together, it never dawned on me that he would be the first to die and I would be the first to watch him deteriorate. For some reason, that "first" was never considered. Yes, we were kids - I thought we'd live forever. A part of me still holds to the idea of immortality - even though I get a rude reminder of my impermanence every time I have a close encounter with death (or his offspring, sickness). Nevertheless, the day I walked up to that casket and saw his greying appearance, thin fingers, and sunken face, my innocence was raped - taken from me quicker than I would compartmentalize. We were protectors of the treehouse, a safe haven for our Power Ranger toys, comic books and fruit snacks. NOBODY else was allowed in. We would talk - to each other - over each other - for hours uninterrupted, save dinner or lunch time feeding. When he died, I never returned to the treehouse. I would only secure it, making sure no one could get into it or that  no one would be able to threaten its existence.

We were just kids.

See, these were the times where children were allowed by adults to stay children. Taboo topics were kept among the conversation pieces of adults while children were given imaginary license to be and do whatever they wanted. Talk of leukemia was as familiar to me at that age as was sex - nonexistent. So when he died, I got the typical "God needed him" or "He's an angel now" speech. And yet, I resented him for leaving me. My best friend had lied; we wouldn't be friends forever.

Fast forward 15 years. [Reflecting]

On this Christmas day, I look back at how I have responded to this loss. I have accrued a good bit of prosperity due to hard work, intelligence and grace. Because of this, I've attracted a great bit of people in my life that have become "friends," both fake and real. Folk who are yes men and women, saving their spot in my VIP section or party so that they could drink for free, behave riotously and have much to talk about the next day. I've asked myself over the years, "How many of you know my favorite food?" "What is my biggest fear?" "How many siblings do I have?" The majority of these people would get a righteous "F" as a grade in Johmyrin 101. Yet, I've kept them around because a part of me needed to fill that void.

Need[ed] - past tense

I have since grown up. I owe my best friend about 15 years worth of apologies. In essence, they have infiltrated the treehouse - or at least they've tried. I'm thankful nevertheless that I have made better friends, those who have added to the treehouse, instead of taking away from it. Theron would have appreciated that. Those others, I thank God for them as well. Moochers, back-biters, nay-sayers, bobble heads - all of them. I've learned as much from you about what real friendship is as I have from the blessings that have entered into my life.

I'm thankful this Christmas day - as I am everyday. I'm still growing, being very careful about who enters into the Treehouse. I pray that this next phase of life brings me great joy and more true friendship!

Merry Christmas

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

It's always been an obstacle for me to say, "I miss you" - until now.

I've poured myself into so much, seeking gratification from guilt and hiding in the fears of my own talent. Had I just taken a minute to think, reflect. I only needed one minute to become that child again, unexposed to men and women who make themselves kin to the brutal realities of life's bad side. Somewhere, in the crevices of my mind - those spaces between thought and action, one might call stillness - I've searched all over for you with no compass to guide me.

I've been using a map all this time. With its landscape of possibilities, I've been walking in that desert for 25 years, with the smallest amount of mana to sustain me. Body beaten, mind run down, and soul searching, I saw a star shoot across the skyline of my soul - leaving behind a trail of brazen gold that laid a path that inspired my journey. The more gold I picked up, the tiniest flashbacks started to return. My eyes opened a little wider, my nose accepted the smells of intrigue. I was in a familiar place with only a few steps taken.

In front of me is this child, a reddish-golden haired lightly sanded skin-toned 7 year old whose appearance caused me the greatest tears. He smelled of my grandmother's downy drowned sheets and the slightest hint of baby powder. His head had not quite caught up to his ears in growth though it was variably bigger than the rest of his body - MY body. I looked into his greyish-brown eyes and saw myself. I had  neglected me - forgot what makes me happy, what was true to me. But that little boy knew. So we sat, had a conversation, where he walked over, picked up things and started using them, mixing them, breaking them. He showed little concern for getting dirty or taking a chance that might end in nothingness. It was the exploration that meant the most to him.

Somewhere, somehow, I lost that fearlessness. So wrapped up in my next degree, accomplishment, and success that I had forgotten what God had infused within me at birth - a love for change.

I carry this kid on my journey now. He whispers in my ear every now and then to tell me when he feels like he is fading away. When he does, I know that my truest self is dying by a decision I have made. I'm thankful for my reconnection. I have missed him. I have MISSED me. I have MISSED my passion. This rediscover of self has open up the floodgates for me to love hard, take emotional risks and maybe one day MISS HER.

No longer will I walk around chasing other people's expectations for me. That little boy wants to play and I won't do anything to stop him.