Hi.

Welcome to my blog: a non-linear tale of the adventures of an African child in the 21st Century. To learn more about my story or why I titled this blog, The Warm Fruit, click here.

Night

Night

Have you ever sat waiting for the rain? Your eyes perched on the window, assessing each darkening cloud, awaiting the heaviness in the air. Have you sat waiting for the moon to rise and the trees to set? Have you sat in silence for hours, thinking?

Nights are the hardest. Drenched with anxiety over yet another night to be spent tossing and turning. A nightly routine predicated on the nagging fear of watching the clock yawn into the night, numbers falling off to be replaced by even more menacing ones. My heart beats faster. Unsure if I am more afraid of suddenly been caught awake in what are the sleeping hours or the fear that there is still much to be done. That I have not done enough in this day. But perhaps, even more present, is the fear of being alone.

That I am never more alone than in the dark, every distraction pulled away. Left with nothing but my beating heart, my churning mind and the skin and bone that coat me. 


Feature photo: View of Minneapolis' Hennepin Avenue bridge as the Mississippi River passes underneath it at sunset. Taken Sep 20, 2015. 

My Demons Won Today

My Demons Won Today

30

30