She Lived

I am an established rap artist, and while I have not yet solidified my collab with Cardi B just yet- I will tell you that 6/10 times my sons think I am pretty skilled. Yeah. I have a rap for brushing our teeth, cleaning up, changing their diaper, bath time. You name it. My game is strong. If you don’t know… now you know. This is the light. Right there. The silliness. That is how I want to be remembered. That is the lasting feeling I want my children to have of me.

Let me tell you- I have lost three significant people in my life in the last four years. I mean. Earth shattering loses. It blows. I have lost more friends in my 27 years than I can count on two hands. People who had dinner plans that night, plans for a family, plans for marriage, a career. How sobering… The burdensome yet liberating truth of this is that I had zero control of if they could stay, or the fact that they had to go. I got to wake up today. I got to open my eyes to see my son lying next to me. I walked down stairs to brew my coffee and had a handwritten love letter from my husband. I was lucky to get that today. Grasp that for a second. How scary- how real. We go to bed every night numb to the fact that we may never see the things we love again. Not to be depressing but I want you to feel the magnitude here. It is real. I did not get to choose to have the people I love leave. I did not choose that I got to wake up today. So guess what. I am going to live the hell out of it.

If I die tomorrow- I so desperately want to be remembered as the girl who overflowed with life. Pres- she lived. So simple, bold. True. I actively choose every day to let the opinions of others be exactly what they are. Theirs. I fight to find peace. To seek God and know Him on a deeper level. I fight to grow and be a more beautiful, internal version, of myself every day. This one’s for you Mema. I fight to show fierce amounts of love to everyone I encounter. I do not want the last memory my kids have of me to be yelling at them to stop jumping on the damn couch. I do not want the last memory my mom has of me to be rushing off of a phone call. Hear me. Make time for your moms. I know too many who wish they did… I do not want the last thing Shane remembers of me to be yelling at him because I cleaned and folded his boxers and he doesn’t put them away (subtle hints here love). But really- if we are not promised that we have tomorrow- why do we keep shrugging off how we treat people- how we love people?

Strive to make your interactions with people something memorable- something lovely. A good friend of mine sent this to me today. “Being heard is so close to being loved, that for the average person, the difference between the two is indistinguishable.” Indistinguishable. Listen. Stop and listen, stop to love people. Stop using tomorrow as a crutch to have another change to be kind, to let things roll off our back. I find peace in knowing who I serve. But- let this scare you. Love hard. Even if you get burned. Laugh. Rap to your children. Who cares? Make yourself available to people- they need you.

Don’t hold onto pain- acknowledge it and find a way to heal. Arguments, disagreements, hurt feelings. Don’t begrudge yourself with something counterfeit to victory. You cannot win in these ways- holding onto things will tarnish your insides. Grow, learn. Don’t repeat mistakes. Forgive people but forgive yourself. Let go.

As I get closer to 30, how many of you just rolled your eyes? But real talk babe- as I get closer, I look back and see how many I have lost along the way. Why me? I have gotten the chance to have a ‘tomorrow’ 9855+ times. Honestly, I have wasted countless ‘tomorrows’. But I am seeing now how valuable and fragile this is. For that reason, I will live big, so the day when my tomorrows end, they will say: “If there is one thing Pres did abundantly well, she lived.”

PK