Oh the places you’ll go
I was only 5 years old when my brother taught me how to die.
Where are your pants Victoria?
Hurry up Bo!
My baby isn’t breathing.
What the fuck.
Cmon Ciara and Niyla.
Start the car please.
The room is dark and I can’t find my shoes. Momma, I can’t find my pants.
Just get in the fucking car.
Go go go go go just please go.
I don’t recall much from that night besides the darkness of my room and the overstimulating ruckus of my parents panicking paired with my siblings’s desperate sobs. As I rubbed the crust from my eyes I was suddenly seated behind my mom in the driver's seat. My stepdad Bo sat beside her with his lips held to my baby brother Camari’s mouth. His body laid limp yet curled up, kind of like a sleeping newborn.
Hold a tissue to his airway and let me know if you see motion,
says an unfamiliar woman’s voice coming through Bo's blackberry.
He’s breathing.
Okay good, everything will be okay, things will work out.
Except when they don’t because sometimes, they won’t.
My brother spent a few days on life support before going off to Great Places at the age of 8 months in 2009. Though I was the eldest siblings, I was only 5 years old when he taught me how to die.
From then on, the impermanence of life stood at the forefront of my mind. So much to do with so limited time, I started to guard all of those that were mine.
I asked my mom to stop smoking because life flashes in a blink. The only thing I could never do was to get my grandma to put down her drink.
Since then, alone has been something I’ve been quite a lot. All alone! And that’s whether I like it or not.
So many bang-ups and hang-ups have happened to me but I’ve kept moving on, as strong as can be.
Though sometimes I've been struck with doubt, do I dare to stay out? Do I dare to go in? Exactly how much could I lose? And how much is left that I could win.
The people around me are happening, as living things tend to do. But I want to know if I’m good enough, please tell me; am I happening too?
