Everyday, I have the power to change the future.
I like to think my new deer friends reflect the emotional space I’m trying to occupy as a Black mother. This here grass is good. I’ll eat it. This here shade feels nice. I’ll be in it. There is another energy. I see you. This here fence is big and I’m strong enough to jump it, if the energy shifts. But, the energy here. It is good. And the grass. It is tasty. So, I’m here. Eating grass.
She has history on her side when she worries. Any (Black) mother - especially bright, talented Stay-At-Home and/or home educating mothers - are told that mothering their children is a waste of time. They could be out blazing new paths, having careers, doing anything. Anything except listening and loving. And when all too often our sons are violently transgressed upon, we wonder.