Though I can breathe deeply that I did enough to keep Bruce and Bitsy alive to adulthood, I’m troubled by the bigger picture.

“Trees are emotional for people. They can be contentious for some people and very welcome to others.”

But none of us alive today will probably ever know the ultimate fate of our world. Our efforts are all we have.

The inalienable fact of life being Black, as well as being an immigrant is building a home out of the unfamiliar.

I feel like I slipped out the back door one night and never returned home.

Almost teared up when one past fellow said “if you are here, you are good enough.” Recovering from academitis where it seldom felt that way.

As I got older and began to understand storms, I learned just how resilient the people around me are.

I peered through the sidelight windows, seeking any indication of who these people might be: a flag, a sticker, even an item of clothing.

I had just opened an envelope containing the 2016 renewal notice for our flood insurance. The premium was over $4,000.

With everyone strapped on their imaginary seat belts, the machine would turn on in three. Two. One.