Riding in Cars with Boys

I miss riding in cars with boys. Cars with big rims and two 15″ subwoofers in the trunk blasting the latest T.I. or Jeezy mixtape.

I miss my best friend. His smile. Rollin’ with him everywhere. Everything being on him. I hope you got me when I come home, dude.

And my other best friend, I miss her. 12 years and counting chick! Around her I can just be. No fronting. No pretending like everything’s ok when it isn’t.

I miss the glow in her children’s eyes whenever I show up to her house. Their tiny arms wrapped around my neck when I shower them with hugs and kisses- there’s no greater gift. I’ll always cherish the time spent with them, where for just one moment, I get a glimpse at the possibilities of motherhood.

My Soror, best friend, line sister, confidante, counselor, e-v-er-y-thing. See you on the beach.

I miss clubs where people dance. Dirty. Where the DJ’s know exactly what to play to make the party pop.

I miss southern men.

TSU Homecoming. ‘Nough said.

Monell’s. Wonder if Ma could send me a plate.

Second Ave.

I miss my aunt’s house purposely located three doors down from my grandma’s house.

I can always count on a good laugh and glass of wine at grandmas.

Pastor and First Lady Greer, I miss them too. My choir is a force to be reckoned with.

How about those Titans!

Southern food. Real southern food. Guess Amy Ruth’s will suffice.

Those weekend drives to the A. Where we always had a blast. And everything was always taken care of. Yeah, I definitely miss that shit.

My little one bedroom apartment. Memories.

Family.

I

miss

home.