Nat
That is her name. That's what it's always been to me. She's my sister that has read many books and talks much about everything. She remains relevant, true to herself, and refuses to break under pressure. If anything, she's been shaped and sharpened by the ugly edges of life. I've seen her soar above peers, climb higher and more quickly than most men up the cooperate latter. Her diplomas, plaques, trophies, and distinguished photographs grace Mom's house with a sense of great achievement. When I think of her, I see red for her devotion to Delta Sigma Theta, blue for the skies that weren't boundaries for her dreams, green for the grass she made greener, no matter where she went, and black for the darkness she emerged from when things got rough. She shames Rambo, in my opinion, for her confidence is more deadly. She has the presence of a queen with vast rule, the mind of a politician speaking, breathing, and living for the people, and a heart of a warrior, willing to fight if it means that somebody doesn't have to anymore.
Nat is the name I call when she's home, sitting on the loveseat, watching Netflix or sewing a blanket. It's the name saved in my phone for when I call for advice, wish her happy birthday via song, or simply catch up. This is the name said amongst others who ask of her well-being, wondering what she's up to or which country is she visiting. I'm certain her passport has many stamps. I'm positive that every text stocked in her home has not been glanced over, but thoroughly read, considered, and mentally stored. I'm certain all her cook books have her fingerprints if not dashes of seasoning, flower, or delicious scents. There's power in her storytelling, especially personal tales of her experiences with all types of people. One thing that stands out the most for me are the hugs that's attached to her name. When we greet or depart, her arms extend, I kiss her cheek and squeeze her so that she will never forget how much her brother loves her. As long as we continue to embrace, her faith in my affection will never fall short.
She is living proof of God's hand. Nat has changed so much, yet has remained the same. If you sit near her long enough, you can hear her sing songs with a sweet voice. You can hear her laugh upon simple joys and giggle commentary on the humor that appears before her. You'll notice the womanhood she's acquired through education, literature, her taste in filmography, and the many dishes she's prepared simply by trying them out for the first time. Her curls can be mistaken for either a halo or crown, depending on what type of smile she displays. If you get a chance, ask her how she became so strong, so determined to make a difference not just in herself, but in the world in which she lives. I'm certain she will tell you. Nat is one of my many rocks. She's solid as a dream, honest as a prayer, and happy as a day to remember. Nat is happy to be the woman she is because that's what God created her to be.
Nat is the name I call when she's home, sitting on the loveseat, watching Netflix or sewing a blanket. It's the name saved in my phone for when I call for advice, wish her happy birthday via song, or simply catch up. This is the name said amongst others who ask of her well-being, wondering what she's up to or which country is she visiting. I'm certain her passport has many stamps. I'm positive that every text stocked in her home has not been glanced over, but thoroughly read, considered, and mentally stored. I'm certain all her cook books have her fingerprints if not dashes of seasoning, flower, or delicious scents. There's power in her storytelling, especially personal tales of her experiences with all types of people. One thing that stands out the most for me are the hugs that's attached to her name. When we greet or depart, her arms extend, I kiss her cheek and squeeze her so that she will never forget how much her brother loves her. As long as we continue to embrace, her faith in my affection will never fall short.
She is living proof of God's hand. Nat has changed so much, yet has remained the same. If you sit near her long enough, you can hear her sing songs with a sweet voice. You can hear her laugh upon simple joys and giggle commentary on the humor that appears before her. You'll notice the womanhood she's acquired through education, literature, her taste in filmography, and the many dishes she's prepared simply by trying them out for the first time. Her curls can be mistaken for either a halo or crown, depending on what type of smile she displays. If you get a chance, ask her how she became so strong, so determined to make a difference not just in herself, but in the world in which she lives. I'm certain she will tell you. Nat is one of my many rocks. She's solid as a dream, honest as a prayer, and happy as a day to remember. Nat is happy to be the woman she is because that's what God created her to be.
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