Listen, Halloween can keep ghosts, goblins, and creepy crawlers in night. At this big grown age, I know the real scares come with a due date. Maybe a warning light, a school message sent at 9:47 p.m., or a grocery receipt long enough to qualify as a novella. 

September was one of those months that felt like it had sixty days instead of thirty. I don’t know if it was the season changing, responsibilities piling up sky-high, or just life out here doing what life does. It was something about this month that tested that last damn nerve I have. There were days when I felt productive. Days I felt pulled together, and completely on top of my game. However, then there were days when just surviving what absolutely had to get done was a full victory.

pexels

As I get closer to four years post-divorce, people keep asking why I am still single. Baby, because I am good on the disappointment. I am not lonely enough to entertain confusion, lower my standards, or make room for somebody who brings nothing but disruption. I fought too damn hard for my peace to slide it across the table just because folks think a woman is supposed to have a man by now. I am not auditioning for companionship, and I am sure as hell not settling just to say I have somebody.

pexels

September is here, and baby, I am walking into this month with my head lifted. My heart is still soft. My feet are planted firm. August tried me in ways I did not even have words for. Between being a Black woman, a mama of two, keeping up with work, school, bills, responsibilities, and still trying to look myself in the mirror and say, 

pexels