Five Years Later (Runaway Love)

 

Writer’s block is a bitch…everyone who considers themselves one goes through it.  The only reason I seem to have these lapses in being able to put pen to paper-or thoughts to laptop-is because I am almost always drawing from my own personal experiences.  It gets tiring.  Sometimes, I that part of my mind and spirit need a break for the sake of reevaluation and to some extent, reinventing myself.  I have been in the midst of one of these spells as of recent.

This afternoon, I treated myself to some salmon after my workout.  In the store, I heard Justin Bieber’s “Runaway Love” playing.  I immediately thought of the Kanye West produced remix that was one of the first releases from his 2010 G.O.O.D. Friday series that served as a marketing rollout for is album, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.  Every time I hear that song, it takes me back to sitting on the patio of the Smyrna, GA apartment Timile and I shared.  I would be out there for hours looking for jobs or studying for the GMAT exam.  I would be out there for so long that my forearms were considerably darker than the rest of my body.

I felt the urge to give Bieber’s song a listen while waiting for 3 pm to roll around in front of my nephew’s elementary school.  Looking at the sequence of tracks above and below on my phone, I gave the neighboring songs a play as well.  The songs were “Run That Shit” by Curren$y and “Running Rebels” by Meek Mill featuring Wale, Stalley, and Teedra Moses.  Those two songs remind me of my spring and summer of 2011.  I had flashes of trying to learn my way around unfamiliar Buffalo, NY.  I also thought about the nights that I would sit on the stoop at 471 Norfolk Avenue on the east side; looking at the Eerie County Medical Center sign that shone brightly while chain-smoking.

The oddly fond memories of Buffalo made me ask myself what is today’s date.  It’s February 23, 2016.  On this morning five years ago, I woke up late-8 am-and was getting ready to head to the hospital to see Timile and Cydney.  My sister had already spoken to Timile that morning.  Timile called her to inform her that the doctors had officially diagnosed her with esophageal cancer.  My sister was called first because Timile wanted to soften the blow.  She and I had gotten into a couple of arguments at the hospital due to emotions being on high because there was just a lot going on.  Timile wasn’t sure how I would take the news and I don’t think she wanted to be the one to tell me, either.

I had mentally prepared myself for the tests that she had been taking over the past week coming back saying it was cancer.  No matter how much you mentally prepare for the news, that shit still hits like a sledgehammer; yet the feeling is passive.  It feels more like gravity sucks the wind out of you because your spirits drop.

Once everyone else found out the news, people were visiting the hospital all day.  There wasn’t time to process anything.  Whether it was doctors coming in explaining options on what happens next, how they came up with their prognosis, feeding and changing diapers, to entertaining company; there just wasn’t time.  When Timile and I had a moment to ourselves and Cydney was back in the nursery, we were silent.  It was hard to have anything to say.  The shit was and is a lot for anyone to handle.  But we were twenty-five and just became parents a little more than a week ago.

In a completely unrelated thought that happened a little earlier in the day, I thought to myself “I haven’t cried about anything since the beginning of last February.”  These days, sadness is an emotion I am fairly unfamiliar with.  Almost no matter what happens, I tend to keep a cool head and remain calm.  I say this to explain that I don’t have somber feelings thinking about those adverse times.  More or less, I am reminded of where I have been.  This is probably why I get sever writer’s block.  My soul gets fatigued from staying in a virtually perpetual motion.

Five years later, I’m 717 words out of my rut of having very little to say in a narrative capacity.  Cydney will be home any minute.  There’s homework to do and a podcast to record tonight.  I should be back tomorrow.  Matter of fact, I have no choice.  I have three articles due and two songs to pen before tomorrow afternoon.

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