This week there were protests against brutality going on across the country ten days strong. People were getting hurt fighting for the rights of black men and people of color murdered who were and are targeted by police. People of all ages are out in the middle a pandemic demanding that black men, women, and children can walk the streets without fear of harassment, violence, and death. But I think of my daughter, who I have not seen since Saturday. I think of the weather, the storms that started on Wednesday, and prevented me from seeing her and my heart breaks. I hate this. And I worry about not seeing her. I worry about what the weather might do today and this weekend. I worry about what my ex says about the protests and her fears of bringing Elba to me in the city. She won’t bring my child to me and must scramble to find ways to see her.
My daughter is almost four, and I hardly see her as it is. I don’t want to be a stranger to her. I want to see her every day. We are in a pandemic, where people are suffering financially, in health, and fighting for justice. And we have no leadership to unify and guide us through this crisis. But I castigate myself because I think of my daughter, and how I need to move forward with her in my life. And I wonder if I will feel trust like I did before. I guess I am selfish to think of my daughter, and of myself in these overwhelmingly troubled times.
Elba at play in her session American St., early morning Reminders of our time Towards Germantown Ave. North Kensington My supermarket X marks where to stand Elba toys From Penn’s Landing A double rainbow My block Another reminder Elba at Laynie’s
