#myconversation

[narrative-driven-off-a-cliff]

Good times with my brother

[simwealth]

I just love the safe guided environment, sharing my thoughts with divine intervention and i could fear nothing but tap into the power of God. #mythoughts being #thoughtful #mindful #myconversation with the #nature #theuniverse #heavenlyFather #communication https://www.instagram.com/p/CAr62xgJhly/?igshid=b6i252irtx01

[i-tuoi-capelli-e-le-lenzuola]

Ah

[ladylaleebella]

Kashief Lindo 👑 She's Beautiful #MyConversation 💖 #TheUniques💫 #ItsMagic #MrLandLord ✨#EasyNuh

[reasonedramblings]

The Gray Woman

He stood at the foot of her hospital bed, looking down at the little gray woman who was ensconced in the middle. The bed was propped up to support her in a sitting position, but it towered over her, proving more ominous than helpful. Her clothing was huge, as though she were wearing her dad's shirt. He listened politely as she spoke, telling about her medical troubles. Cancer, damaged organs, transplants. He wondered how long she had been in the hospital. She didn't offer up that information. 

He helped the doctor unplug her oxygen from the wall-mounted unit and plug it back in to the mobile tank. It was easy, transferring her to the wheelchair. She weighed very little, and felt fragile in his hands. She didn't speak as they wheeled her down the hallway to the gymnasium, and her breaths came in tiny gasps, assisted by the oxygen. The doctor parked her in front of a machine. “"This is designed to help you with your endurance,” he said gently. She nodded quietly and placed both hands on the pedals. The doctor set the timer and she began to slowly crank the machine, pedaling with her hands. 

“I have a meeting I have to be at,” the doctor said. “"I'm going to have you work with another therapist, over there.” He pointed at a young man who was helping to stretch out a patients leg. He scanned the gym. It was full of people, stretching or pedaling bikes, climbing stairs or doing strengthening exercises in wheelchairs. Cheerful music blared from the speakers, and he recognized two of the men he had worked with earlier in the day. They caught his eye and he waved at them. 

The doctor excused himself, and he went to join the other therapist. He listened as the new therapist explained what he was doing, and leaned in to help. Behind him, the gray woman finished her time and was wheeled out. He didn't notice her leaving. 

[captainpinkeverything]

"What are you mixed with?"

Is the question I've been getting since birth. When I learned to talk my answer is and has always been "my mother and my father" ... They'll cough up a fake ass laugh and then "ok but really what are you mixed with" ... I inhale as deep as I can. My mother and father are both black. My mother and I happen to be the same color and her parents are also black. "Well there has to be something because of your skin and your eyes." I smile and say nothing. I already have to face not feeling black enough. Then you have to tell me that I'm not. I am who I am. I love Jesus. I'm a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a wife. I love The Office and I'm black. You can say anything and think anything that you want but at the end of the day, I'm black and happy to be alive. The end.