So here I was ten years later. Promises, life spoken over me in the midst of death. Friends gained, friends lost. Love gained, love murdered, love disguised, and love reborn. Home snatched, home built. Dreams spoken, dreams deferred, dreams awakened. I walked into that first session of the parent advocacy fellowship and a tear welled up in my eyes. My mind replayed the memories of my journey and recalled the hard road I had traveled, to make me, sitting in this seat, so powerful. I wasn’t even sure how I had gotten there. God’s hand, God’s timing, purpose. Prayers that I had cried about at seventeen were finally manifesting. My eyes scanned the room for empty seats. The room was a sea of beautiful shades of deep browns, coppers, and olives.
After about five minutes, I narrowed in on a vacant seat next to a blonde-haired wild child. Her hair is wild and free, curls dancing and enjoying their natural state, just like mine.
“Hi, I’m Queen; is someone sitting here?” I asked because the flower child with the vanilla complexion had her Michael Kors bag sitting in the seat next to her.
“Oh no, my fault.” She hurriedly moved her bag and pulled the chair out.
“I’m Hope; nice to meet you.” She extended her hand. Hope and I were the youngest women in the fellowship. “I’m Queen,” I said with a huge smile on my face.