the soil.

Foundation:

“You know I am going to die soon.”

I shook out of my trance. “What do you mean Mama?”

“I am going to die soon. You know it. Yo daddy knows it. Y’all just all trynna make me comfortable before I go. I appreciate it, but Imma be real with you. I am about to die.”

“Don’t be silly. The doctor’s say you finna be just fine.”

“Yea okay. Before I go, I want you to know that I ain't scared.”

I rolled my eyes. One thing about my Mama. She wasn't no punk. Whispers of my mother’s troublesome antics permeated through town like the smell of chitlins on Thanksgiving Day. Mama grew up in the country in the early 70’s. If it wasn’t the racist white men calling her “nigger”, it was her boyfriends trynna beat her.

Momma always told me that tough women live tough lives. You could see it in the wrinkles in her Hershey colored skin and the gray hairs that flowed from her scalp. My Auntie told me that in 6th grade this little white boy called my mama a “nigger” during school. He barely got another breath out before she jumped over a staircase and held a pen to his throat. She said, “Don’t you dare call me “nigger” again. That day she was expelled from school. She never looked back. Her tough exterior was complimented by a softness locked away deep in her heart. I was the only one that held the key.

She tried to convince me otherwise, but I could tell the thought of death shook her to the core. Earlier that year, Mama was diagnosed with cancer. She lost a kidney and was put on dialysis. She refused to give up her life even with the diagnosis. We would spend the summer on her porch drinking beer and planting in the garden. Anything to keep her from thinking about her illness.

“ I need to tell you something before I go, Zora”

“Mama, I den told you. You ain't going nowhere, but what you got to tell me?”

Mama was a little on the crazy side, but I never took what she said lightly. She had a deep connection with God. Some days, I would find her staring deeply into the sky. I would jokingly ask her what she was looking for. She would always respond in a serious tone “the answers.”

“Chile, are you listening? This is important!”

“Yes’m I am listening,” I said as I snapped out of my trance.

“It is something that my Nana told me and her Nana told her…..

“Zora, the soil is our home. from the soil everything is born and to the soil everything shall return. In the meantime, you must do everything you can to bloom. But always remember, flowers planted in the wrong soil will never take root.”

“Mama, what?”

“You will know what it means when the time comes. For now, come here.”

She nestled me in her soft bosom and rocked me back and forth, combing my hair gently. I matched my breathing with the rhythm of her heart. Mama and I were opposites. She was rough around the edges, bold, and unapologetic. I was soft, nurturing, and shy, but we understood each other. There was no doubt that I was born from her womb. My mama was my first home. Flesh of her Flesh. Bone of her Bone. I was Sol’s daughter. There was no doubt about that.

Mama took one more sip of her beer, dusted the soil from her hands, and stumbled inside the house. She was right. Death was knocking at her door and a week later she answered. In the weeks following her death, I didn’t cry. I barely blinked. I couldn't stand to stay in the house. I took my suitcase and the empty space in my heart. For the first time in my life, I left my mother’s home.

***

Renting:

“Babe, you good”

“Oh yes, my bad. I will have the cheeseburger with extra ketchup”

“Zora, what is going on with you? It seems like you are somewhere else.”

This past year I found myself falling into these deep trances more often. Each day the dreams would become more vivid. My head was always in the clouds searching for those answers mama used to always speak about. It used to annoy the hell out of Dex.

I met Dex in a Chicago diner one year after my mother’s death. He wasn't the most attractive man, but he had a swagger about him that I could not deny. He walked up to me. His eyes were deep and shiny like the ocean. Call me a little corny, but my heart gave me no choice but to dive in head first. Fast forward, 7 months later Dex asked me to move in with him. Too soon? Of course, but your girl had to find a new place to rest her heavy head at night. Dex was ready to give me the keys to his home and his heart.

One Sunday morning, Dex busted in our room full of excitement.

“Yo, I have a great idea Z”

“What is it?” I said reluctantly.

“Let's start a garden. I know you have a mean green thumb and it would be nice to finally fix up the yard. We can call the garden Soul of Sol. I mean that is if you want to”

Name a garden after my dead mother? What the hell was he thinking? But, I could tell that he was trying. So I said...

“Sure, sounds great.”

Our Sundays fell into a comfortable routine. We would wake up, eat breakfast, and work in the garden. Even with my green thumb, the garden was a struggle. Our vegetables never really grew and there was always a pesky bunny eating all our cabbage, but it was nice to share this time with someone I loved. Every night, I would settle into his arms and the rhythm of his breath the same way I did with mama. Things were finally back to being nice again.

Dex wasn't perfect by any means. He always had these big ideas with no intention of ever finishing them. Then there were the secrets. There was always some new development like the time I found out that his mother wasn’t really a lawyer. The truth is she was always too busy to meet me, because she was in jail for cracking cards. Still I loved him and that house is where we would make our home.

Truth is, most of the time I chose to live in a dream world where everything is okay. In reality, even the most beautiful homes hold dark secrets. Old ghosts creep the halls replaying the most gruesome moments in our lives. Dex’s ghosts were different. They didn’t just creep our halls they climbed into our bed and laid between us. It was only a matter of time before they stepped out of the shadows and into the light.

That Sunday night I dreamt that Dex was on the floor with a naked white woman. I had no words to express the hurt I felt so I flew halfway across the country to a very cold place. My hair was dripping wet and draping down my back. An elderly lady locked eyes with me. She kissed my face and pulled up my hood. She said..

“Z, don't let this make you cold. We will make sure you find your way back home”

I woke up in a cold sweat…

“Who was ‘we’?”

****

*ping*

Message from Goddess3245

I am pregnant.

My knees buckled and my heart stopped. He said the last time would be the last time months ago, but here she was in my inbox-- again.

*Phone rings*

“ Hi, you have reached the voicemail of Dex Roberts. Leave a message.”

“D, its Z. Call me back!”

Thirty calls later and he blocked me. Hearing his voicemail replay over and over brought jitters up my spine to the centers of my eyes. I looked down at my pants sprinkled with small water spots. I was crying. I stared at all the things we accumulated together. I fingered each one and realized I hated them all.

Women love like planes carrying the bags of strangers, helping everyone arrive at their destination. At what moment do we let go? When do we ever get to choose the destination? Why do we keep going back in these circles?

Dex walked through the door. I hurriedly scrubbed my eyes with my hands.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Z, who the hell do you think you are?”

“What?”

“I said, who the hell do you think you are?”

“Is it true?”

“What do you think?”

After all these years, how could he be so cold. No explanation. It was what it was.

“How could you do this to me? After all we have been through, this is our home. You act like you don’t even care. Do you even remember our time together? The love? The shopping sprees? The movie nights? Our garden?

“Z the garden is dead. It's been dead for months.”

I glanced at the garden from our small kitchen window. It used to carry the brightness of sunflowers and tomatoes. He was right, we hadn't been out the whole summer. I didn’t even notice all that was left was a patch of mud sprinkled with small brown weeds.

I didn’t cry. I barely blinked. I couldn't bear to stay in the house any longer. I took my suitcase and the empty space in my heart and walked out the door. I sat in my car for hours until my eyes got heavy and I drifted into sleep. I dreamt of the old lady again. She said, “From the soil everything is born and from the soil everything shall return.” I woke up to a knock at my window.

“Z come in. I am sorry. Let’s figure this out. We always know how to make it work.”

I looked down at my hand. Intertwined in my fingers was the key to my mother’s house. I put the key in the ignition and the car in drive. I went to the only place I knew.

****

Home:

I spotted my mother’s old spade shovel in the ground. I looked at the ground and began to stab. I thought maybe if I stab the ground hard enough, I would find the answer, but all I found was a tiredness in my arms. Tears ran down my face as I took one tomato seed and planted it deep in the ground. With that seed, I planted all my dead hopes of the love that I once knew.

Days later, I woke up to the sound of the country birds chirping. I looked over at the window. My mother’s crystals were still charging in the window. A small smile ran across my face as I thought about how powerful those little things must be after all these years. I clutched them in my hand as I surveyed the house. The heat didn't work so the rooms were cold. The electricity was off so most of the days and nights were spent in darkness. The floorboards creaked and lifted off the ground when I walked.

I walked out to the garden. In a mass of chunky brown soil, a small seedling appeared. The wind whispered.

“...the soil is our home. from the soil everything is born and to the soil everything shall return. In the meantime, you must bloom. But always remember, flowers planted in the wrong soil will never take root.”

The house wasn't perfect, but for the first time, I was home.

Then, I heard a small ring in the kitchen. I glanced down at my phone. It was Dex.

rainy tuesdays.

On a rainy Tuesday night, I walked into a friend's apartment where I was crashing. I say crashing in the most literal way possible. In early December, I jumped off a cliff into the unknown and I have been free-falling ever since. I could hear the echo of my footsteps bounce against the walls. This was the first time in a long time that I felt alone. I wanted to run. To call someone. My phone was the life jacket I needed to save me from drowning further into this loneliness. I slowly picked up my phone when I heard a near-silent whisper say,

"Embrace this moment."

I slumped on the bed and curled into myself. I let my mind wander. I explored every shaky, creaky crevice. Relived the good times and the bad. I swept away the cobwebs from parts of my mind that I hadn't seen in years.

I flipped my hands exposing the dirt under my nails. I was the hive and the pain circled me like honey bees. Relentless. I felt ever sting so vividly yet with every sting my pain would die a little more.

I took a breath and dove deeper. There is where I found my spirit. Cowering in a corner, she caressed me so gently and whispered: "I have been waiting for you". Her hands felt like sunshine after the rain, warm towels on a winter's day, the kiss of my first lover. Her touch was orgasmic. More pleasing than any man I had ever been with. She poured water over me. Cleansed me like the River Jordan. I cried. Promised her all her dreams would come true. Promised her I would never let her bow her head to anyone ever again.

The next day, I awoke without yearning for companionship, because  I could hear her say, "Good morning Queen. I love you!" I could feel everything I needed inside of me. We walked into the rain hand in hand. Heart as one and all I could think was... 

"This is what I have been missing"

time reveals all.

“ I believe I met you for a reason only time will tell”

The moment he burst into the door, a deep pain pierced my heart. It was not out of the ordinary. This happened more as I began to meet new men. Emotions that even remotely resembled love reminded me of my past lover, but I learned at a very young age that no one wants to be around a sad girl so I inhaled the pain. I tied it neatly in a box and wrapped it up with a smile.

The manner in which Tyler exploded through the door should have told me he was trouble.

I simply said, “ Hi, I’m Lo-.” Before I could even say my name, he scooped me high into the air. It felt like love. I am not sure if it was the warmth of being pressed against his body or the rush of adrenaline that sucked me in. Up to this moment, I had been living in sadness. He was the burst of electricity that I needed to get my heart going again.

Sometimes, the pain of losing my past love hurt so badly I could barely breathe. But Tyler … He helped me breathe again.

excerpt… “Finding Home” A novel by Tiffany Lit’Shae