Baby Girl

I read somewhere that writers are their most productive, or insightful in the wee hours of the night. I cannot help but acknowledge this statement to be true for me. I am a writer. I used to think that one day I would become a writer, but everyday I am writing something! Now I don’t count to do lists and grocery lists in there just FYI! It may be only in my head sometimes because my hands are full and I can’t write at the moment. Yet and still every day I write. 

I am enrolled in an advanced writing course this semester and I am assigned a few papers to write. I know that my instructor can critique and teach me things that will aid me in my writing but I am having it hard sitting down to write for class. It feels constricting. I want to think and ruminate on whatever is on my mind and write. I want and need the instruction, because I want to be a successful and hopefully a paid writer someday. Some folks will say that many successful authors were not formally educated and I know that already. I am a student and I want to take advantage of what University can do for me. My mind state needs to change to that frequency instead of the slave one that I am on! SMH!

It is 5:03 am…I have been up since 2 am. when my son came to my door and asked for help with grandma. “She has been crying out for help for 2 hours now, and I don’t know what she needs ” he says. We go in her room together and roll her over to her opposite hip. The nurse informed me that she should never lie on her back because of the diabetic ulcer on her tailbone. Of course I wouldn’t leave her laying on her back anymore after the night. I found her choking on her own bile because she was too weak to roll over! 

Oh momma…I’m so sorry that you are clinging to life in this sick and decaying body. It is hard to watch my momma die. I am having a rough time typing because my vision is blurred by the tears welling up in my eyes. I brought her home from the home because I wanted to be with her when she died. I didn’t want her to be in a covid restricted nursing home where I could not sit at her bedside and hold her hand. Caring for her myself is hard, and I know that I am overwhelmed, but I want mommy to be at home. She loves this house and wants to be here. Life will carry on for me beyond hers I think. You never really know though do you? Who’s to say that I will outlive her? She may be older, sicker, and closer to death than me but it means nothing. I am hoping that I do outlive her. At least long enough to hold her hand when she goes. I love you momma… I dont want you to ever die but I know that you can’t stay so I will be here for you now. Although it hurts to watch you struggle to move, and cry out in pain I will keep  telling you that it will be ok. I will keep telling you that I will be fine and you don’t need to worry. You did a great job raising me, even though I gave you shit on the regular! I am glad that I have you and I want to be sure that you know that you are loved and cherished by your baby girl Vickie