When TJ and I lived in Phoenix, Arizona, there was a little restaurant about a mile away called Roliberto’s. Located in a sketchy strip mall, on the outside it was nothing to look at, but inside, the most magical things happened in the kitchen: burritos brimming with succulent carne asada and guacamole, tacos and nachos, no sour cream to be found. We ate there when I didn’t feel like cooking, when it was the weekend or just because it was freaking delicious. Continue reading
I don’t know how many more mornings I’ll wake up surprised to be where I am: 28 years old, unmarried, jobless, in Portland, Oregon. Young, able, stupid in love, wise and unwise, and in the beautiful Pacific Northwest.
Who knew there were skies so blue outside of North Carolina?
I didn’t know that winter could loom like a cartoon villain drawn in black lines — a hulking presence behind me while I sweat in the summer heat. Conflicting reports don’t help my fears. “It’s not so bad.” vs. “Did you notice all the soup shops? Winters wet like ours require comfort.” Continue reading
1. I wasn’t paying attention when TJ and his brother, Adam, carried his two couches to the U-Haul.
2. Sitting in the garage with a beer, I was counting the bug bites on my legs, and talking to Adam’s girlfriend, Misty.
3. When we arrived at our new apartment & had picked up our keys, we began the never-ending task of unloading our stuff. One U-haul, one car and one truck full of stuff.
4. It was another hot day in Portland. Don’t be fooled.
Of all the fears and doubts I have about moving to a new place, one of the biggest and most overwhelming is more than a little shallow. It was my biggest stressor about moving to Spokane for school and even made me reconsider Boston as an option. As a black woman I have to research if there will be a place for me to get my hair done.