The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

I have a pain that rests so deep inside me that I often wonder where it came from. When did I wake up in this agony that has been like a dull throb for all these decades? The events of the past few days have unnerved me in a way that I thought I wouldn't see again after 2014. How naive of me, maybe too wishful of me, too hopeful that being "twice kissed by God's sun" would not be a cause for death. Last Friday, I spent it on my sofa, prepping for the literary circle I run. It is my Sabbath. I just had coffee and wanted to read. By Monday, I had seen reports of non-melaninated folks crowding beaches in Orange City NJ and the Lake of the Ozarks MO, among other places. It bothered me, in the midst of a pandemic, that they would be so callous with life. What happened to love thy neighbor as thyself? No mask, no physical distancing, just sweaty bodies in a crowded pool. I just wondered how long this would go on. The thing that shouldn't have surprised me was ...

Listen. The day is waking up. It is the darkness easing out-of-the-way of the day emerging from her slumber. When Light Emerges by  Tayé Foster Bradshaw. c. 2020. The birds are chirping their chorus of praise for being alive to greet another day. This is the time of the writers, the artists, the muse. I was up and showered by 4:45am. I felt the nudge to get up and greet the day, even if it is another Covid19 Monday in physical distancing. My spirit was compelling me to get up, to be alert, to hear, deeply, the call of hope and wonder. Today is also my youngest son's birthday and when it is an acceptable hour, I will give him a call at his home on the east coast. I was awake at precisely the time he was born, 3:22am. I listened to the night and then nudged back under the covers. When all around is still, when nothing is moving, it is exactly the time to be present. I stepped out into the dawning chill, my balcony held the night dew, and I looked out over the tree...