Dreams:
We were upstairs on Jefferson. You were sitting in a recliner. You were covered with a comforter. Comfortable. You looked at me and said, don’t worry about me; I’m in my father’s house. That was comforting. Reassuring. All was well with you; I knew in my heart.
The next evening it was a little different. The angels were looking for you because you were trying to escape from heaven. I woke up and laughed because that was typical you. You were pretty good at sneaking out of windows. I saw it first hand. Always back before breakfast. Always on the move. Always the center of attention, but not attention seeking (maybe a little). It just kind of happened because you had an attractive personality.
People loved you. But not like I did. Said selfishly. But not like me. That’s fine because everybody probably feels the same way. They all have stories that they shared with Azikiwe. But I have them with Demarcus. My cousin. My brother. My best friend. My twin. You loved me when I way just trying to fit in. Didn’t know what I was trying to fit into. I loved you the same. You were a pain. But, I loved you the same.
Casket lowered. I watched it. Everybody else walked away. That was me though. I always wanted to be around you. Protect you. Not protective, though. Just connected. We were plugged in. At least as long as we could be. You took your path. I took mine. We checked in. Periodically. But it offered piece of mind.
Honestly. I thought was this my fault. Those thoughts were halted. Still reflect, though. Could I have done anything differently? Answer. Yes. Hindsight always reveals anything is possible. Too bad we only get access to what’s behind us to apply to what’s coming our way. We can’t change what happened, but maybe what will. That’s what I’ve chosen to focus on, bro.
People like you. People like me. People like us. Writing. Telling stories of people like us. I tell your story all the time. It’s hard not to because ours are intertwined. I want to inspire the new old-you and me. Make sense. A Child With a Vision Can Raise a Village. A village raised us. Saginaw. Jefferson. Simoneau. Briarwood. Yauck. Same elders. It worked.
It worked. Demarcus. I’m working.
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