The Cup and the Hero Pt 2
Okay…. so, I messed up. And now I have to go back, apologize, and see if I can fix all these relationships I disappeared from before I knew my presence carried weight. (sigh)
A Second Chance at a Second Chance
Hey, it’s me,
So, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately. Like… a lot. And not surprisingly, I’ve had to go back and make amends with a full roster of people.
You know, I’m not one to dwell on regrets. I’m a two-tears-in-a-bucket kinda gal. But there’s something about our past that’s been weighing on my mind, and it’s this: I regret stepping out of your corner when I really didn’t have to. I wish I had kept showing up for you, no matter what. Our bond deserved better than a birthday text once a year, you know?
Dude, I totally disappeared on everybody. I wasn’t trying to be malicious, I was just trying to be a good mom. I thought that in order to rebuild our lives somewhere else, I needed to disconnect from the place I truly wanted to be. Here’s why…
It was extremely hard being away from you. It was a heck of a lot harder than I ever dreamed it would be to be away from my tribe, and I spent my first four years in Atlanta trying to figure out how to get my butt back to Detroit. Home wasn’t the best place to raise my kids, I knew that. So, I cut ties with anybody and everybody who had the power to make me want to come home.
For a time, it felt like I had managed to bury everything about my past. Yet, I learned quite abruptly during a late-night road trip that memories—especially memories of you—have a way of resurfacing. As the solitary thought of you – not us, not a memory, not an event, just you – stood up in my mind, I realized that buried feelings have a remarkable resilience; as Karol K. Truman aptly put it, “Feelings buried alive never die.”
Unbeknownst to me, that moment behind the wheel on the back roads between South Carolina and Georgia marked the end of my old normal and the beginning of a very long year of reconciling my feelings, dealing with my stuff, and fixing the relationships I’d abandoned. It was during this process that I realized my presence means something. It matters if I’m in the room, and it matters if I leave the room.
So, I’m sorry I left the room.
I hate that our connection became a distant memory, relegated to the occasional text exchange. There were so many moments I wished I could share with you—I should have been the first person to send you the meme of Terrance Howard as Iron Mayne. #instantclassic
And when I discovered Allen Stone’s “American Privilege” it should have been accompanied by a mind-blown emoji right to your phone. But instead, our paths diverged, and I found myself forgetting that not only did I have a group of people back home that I dearly love, but that I’m also a member of a group of people who are dearly loved by others. Out here beloved, and don’t even realize it.
One day, I was just overcome with the realization that I’d missed 13 years of your life, your growth, and your art. Just missed it. And no amount of listening to your music on Spotify could undo that. Equally as distressing, I realized that my departure from music coincided with our separation. Yo… did I QUIT MUSIC as a way to avoid the pain of being separated from my Detroit family?!!?
That’s wild!!
That realization quickly gave way to anxiety. Holy crap – what if we never see each other again? What if we never work together again? What if all this stuff I low-key thought we’d do together never happens? It was horrifying. Even as I write this, the thought of us not working together again makes me lose my breath.
I’ve come to realize that life is full of twists and turns, unexpected detours that lead us down paths we never imagined. And while our journey may have taken us in different directions, I believe there’s still an opportunity for us to come together once again. A sort of second chance.
I’ve spent a lot of time soul-searching over the past 361 days, and I’ve come to realize that my bliss is in helping others build their legacies. It’s about leaving a lasting impact on the world, one that extends far beyond our time on this earth.
And you, my friend, are a crucial part of that legacy. You’ve always been my hero, my inspo, my muse, the one who made everything just a little bit better. And now, I want to be there for you, to support you in whatever way you need.
I know life hasn’t been easy for either of us. We’ve faced our fair share of challenges and hardships, but through it all, our bond has remained unbreakable. So, if you’re still dreaming in song and wanting something to break, I’m here to cheer you on every step of the way.
I’ve come to terms with my past, with the mistakes I’ve made and the regrets I’ve carried. But now, I’m ready for Act 4. I’m ready to embrace the future with open arms, to seize every opportunity that comes my way, and to make the most of the time we have left. I’m officially in my Collabo Era.
So, what do you say? Can a sista get a second chance? To reignite that creative spark and see where it takes us? I’m 10 toes down this time around, and you won’t have to compete with my ambition, my social life, or my sex drive (don’t laugh – you know that younger version of me could be a little messy, and I’mma be real – this 2.0 version of me can still be tempted to get distracted by something ridiculous like a braided beard or a great chest voice 🙃).
…
[she stops to imagine braided-beard guy]
…
Let’s run this thing, bro! You lead. I’m right behind you. Looking forward to whatever comes next,
ya girl
