Where Am I Going and How Did I Get Here
This evening, as I drove my three-year-old son through the park, I had a flashback to previous stretch of my journey -- this thing called life. We had deviated from the usual, looking for a new and more exciting playground, a different slipper side and shade. It's July in St. Louis, unbearable heat and wringing wet. This park is a jewel in the summer with mature trees that provide at least a 10 degree shade cover from the sun. Driving to the playground, we passed a park bench that used to be a favorite. I spent many hours on that bench during many seasons, writing bad poetry, desperate prayers and musing about my hopes and dreams. Back then, I lived in a shotgun apartment only a few blocks away; an apartment that was infested with roaches but CHEAP. My rent was only $325/month, perfect for a single girl trying to make it on her own for the first time. The apartment was gross but I did everything I could to make it home. I covered the 197...