So yesterday...yeah, man, I was going to post something but nothing seemed good enough. See, it was the anniversary of my grandmother's death and, well, you already know.
Then today I'm on The Twitter and scattered all over my timeline is the aftermath and remnants of an ugly mess (that had nothing to do with me) playing itself out in public. This happens at least once a month on #BlackTwitter but it doesn't make it easier to swallow each time. At first I let it suck me in because c'mon, I'm human. Shit like this is tasty and I tend to be greedy. But then it wasn't. Then it was giving my bubbleguts. Then it was leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Then it was reminding me to mind my own business and not frolic among the negative energy.
My grandmother didn't come to this country, watch other people's kids, take in other people's laundry and basically make herself sick taking care of us for me to sit at a desk watching someone's life being dragged through the internets.
Earlier this evening, after a feast of Buffalo wings and waffle fries (OH YEAH) I took K to get her very first tattoo. When we parted ways so she could go with her dad for the weekend and I could go home to be lazy, she ran to hug me and said "I feel like I should stay; I just got my first tattoo with you. It's like postpartum depression or something!" and let me kiss and squeeze her cheeks while using baby talk. In public.
This is what I should be concerning myself with: my family. Hugging them, kissing them and treating them whenever they deserve it and I can afford to.
Blessed is this life...never forget it.
*smooches...celebrating being alive*
I don't think grandma would be happy about the body art, but she'd be happy about the togetherness.