Memories pt1

5 years later and I find my still enchanted by the charm of Baltimore City. That city was a place that I discovered who I was and it showed me who it was. A place where I learned that not all skinfolk is your kinfolk and where I learned that getting dumped isn’t the end of the world, it’s the beginning of a new version of me.

As I sit here in 2025, I was looking for old pictures of when my mom came to visit me in the Dominican Republic, by 60-something year old self, while I was serving as a peace corps volunteer. My sister had recently inquired, “why did mom come visit you all those years by herself, we’ve been trying to figure it out.” and so I went to hunt for photo memories. once I began digging, I opened a folder of pictures that opened a window into my past.

Screenshots of old text message conversations from old friends, pictures of me with my ex-boyfriend from a wedding we attended together—which at the time was a big deal because it was our first public appearance and of course there was drama—and pictures of students I used to work with from a past job as an assistant director of an after-school program. Past memories that brought tears of joy and sadness to my heart. I really found love in Baltimore. Not just from romance, but from real friendships with co-workers and the first time i was able to really be a mentor to black children. I helped students find their voice through writing in the after-school newsletter, I supported young black girls to love their natural afro even when hating adults told them to cover it up, it was the first time I earned the respect of a Baltimore-raised, non-bullshitting, protective secretary that ran that school.

It was a time of many firsts, a lot of growing pains, and frankly my life was a complete mess for everyone around me to see. I was living out loud and in color. what I admire the most about that time in my life is that I allowed myself to fail and succeed, over and over again even though I knew people could see. Somehow in my 20s I had an immense amount of bravery that I am desperately working to regain in my 30s. It seems that my 30s feels like so much more pressure, like there is no room for mistakes. The mistakes come at a higher cost and definetely a lot higher risks, I have more to lose—or that’s the lie I have told myself to keep me hiding in the shadows, running from my truth.

Things felt easier back then. Friendships, romantic relationships, family, jobs don’t get me wrong, every minute felt like a crisis and I always had this existensial dread that I didn’t know what I was doing, but somehow I had managed to accept those things and still have fun! To let myself experience freedom and passion and love and joy.

When’s the last time you put yourself out there and gave yourself a real shot? No fear, just pressure to do it because you won’t be able to live with the “what ifs” when you get old. The freedom that comes with being a beginner. Maybe we can try together?

signed, your friends who’s willing to try it if you are,

arkansawblk

🌘🌑🌒

P.S. Check out my new YouTube video : Should I move to a new place?

P.P.S Follow my artistry on Instagram @arkansawblk and my nature adventures @lavendertheherbalfairy