Today is my birthday and while I’m blessed to be alive and appreciate my loving family, I don’t really feel like celebrating today. Still, I did already have a small celebratory gathering with just immediate family over the weekend. As with my last two posts, I struggled to contribute this month but decided that since the invitation was there, I’d share what’s been on my mind. If you’re not interested in reading any more of my “expressions of social mourning” as it relates to Black Lives Matter, I’ve listed the blog hop link first so you can easily enjoy the other entries. If you’re set on reading what I have to share, I thank you for your time. Please scroll past the list to find my October contribution.
Home Wasn’t Safe For Us
We were home- the place we thought was safe.
You get up every day and face the dangers of the world: rage drivers, hostile bystanders who don’t like people who look like you walking through their neighborhood, jealous neighbors trying to hold you down because you have a plan to rise up and do better for yourself, and old family and friends who keep bringing their problems and their drama to your door.
But once you are inside and you’ve closed the door, you take a deep breath and rest because you think you’re safe. You never find out just how wrong you are until it’s too late.
She was everything. A light in the dark and a ray of hope to all who knew her. Everyone was rooting for her. We all knew she was going to make something of herself. She already was. She didn’t choose an easy path, but she chose one that would truly make a difference in other people’s lives.
After a long day, 12-hour shifts are no easy feat, she deserved to come home and have a good night’s sleep. But it just wasn’t meant to be.
We were startled- jerked from our rest. Everything was so loud, so aggressive- all happening so fast. We didn’t know what was going on. Was it someone from the past looking to shake up our lives? Was it someone who was mad that for the first time we could easily pay our bills? Was it someone high and wacked out just looking to hurt someone for no reason?
I know now it was my fault. I was stupid. I made the grave mistake that took her life. I was foolish enough to believe that 2nd Amendment right applied to a black man living in the hood. I was wrong, trying to protect her- wasn’t even thinking about myself, and yet she’s the one who’s gone.
Five times they shot her and walked away. No one looked at her, checked her pulse, or even counted the bullet holes. She lay there, gurgled blood, and slept with her eyes open- frozen in fear and shock. After a long day’s work trying to make an American dream come true that was never meant for her, she finally got to sleep.
I never should have tried to protect us. If only I’d let the door burst open and taken a few of the shots too, perhaps she and I would be together. Sleeping together forever after a long day’s work- dreaming about that American fantasy we would never have.
All I can do now is say her name. Every day, I say her name to remind me of my mistake- my foolishness.
Breonna. Breonna. Breonna.
A “fictionalized first-person” account of what happened just after midnight on March 13, 2020 in Louisville, Kentucky. Mr. Walker, Breonna Taylor’s boyfriend, who tried to protect their home was charged with attempted murder of a police officer, but the charges were later dropped.
NCCO- 496 words- Home Wasn’t Safe For Us 2020 Copyright © Toinette J. Thomas
Read this article by The New York Times.com to learn more.
Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you like it let me know and share it with others. See you next time, Toi Thomas. #thetoiboxofwords #blacklivesmatter