Hearth and Hugs

I ain’t stepped in Mama’s kitchen in over two years. Last time, words flew, doors slammed, and pride stacked itself between us like bricks. But today, somethin’ pulled me back. Maybe it was the smell of cornbread on the street, maybe it was just the pull of family—that invisible line even distance don’t break.

I opened the door slow. Warmth hit me first, then the smell of spices and fried okra. Taye was there, apron dusted with flour, hummin’ to himself, like he never stopped. I froze a second, nerves knotting, but then he looked up. “Lexi,” he said, voice soft, steady. Ain’t anger, ain’t blame. Just recognition.

The River’s Lesson

I been walkin’ these woods since sunrise, boots crunchin’ over leaves wet with dew. Air crisp, smell of pine thick in my nose. I ain’t come here for no fun—I came to think, to breathe, to remember I got choices in a world that often try to tell me I don’t.

That’s when I seen the fox. Lil’ red thing, tail bushy, eyes sharp. It stopped like it knew I was watchin’. Didn’t run. Didn’t bark. Just…looked. Freedom look like that. Ain’t chained by worry or expectation. Just present, alert, alive. I whispered, “Teach me.” Not that it could answer, but I listened anyway.

Mama’s Kitchen Table

I ain’t seen my cousin Taye in years. Last time we spoke, the words got heavy, doors slammed, pride got in the way. Family sometimes hurt worse than strangers. But Mama? Mama always said, “Blood don’t make love automatic, baby. You gotta show it.”

The Silver Stallion

I ain’t never forget the day I met him—the stallion. Silver coat, mane like liquid moonlight, hooves kickin’ up dust that shimmered in the morning sun. The forest near Elderwood was quiet, save for the wind through the pines and the soft crackle of leaves underfoot. I came there to clear my head, but the forest had other plans.

The Fox and the River

Dawn broke pink over the hills, and I already had my boots laced tight, stick in hand, ready to move. River Valley was quiet in the mornings, only the hiss of water over stones, the wind through pines, and the occasional bird breaking the silence. I didn’t come out here for fun. I came out here to think, to feel, to remember that freedom don’t always live in cities and contracts and debts—it live in air, in land, in steps you take without someone tellin’ you where to go.

The Gold in Her Hands

I been standin’ in front the mirror for close to an hour, twistin’ my hair slow, takin’ my time. Don’t let nobody tell you natural hair ain’t work—every coil, every curl, demand attention. And that attention cost money, even if it ain’t cash. Products, oils, combs, the time I put in. I learned early: time and money both count, and both gotta be respected.

Feathers in the Wind

I stepped out the door ‘fore the sun even hit the tops of the trees. Air crisp, smell of wet grass hittin’ my nose. I ain’t never been the type to just walk, but today my legs needed it. Needed the stretch, needed the quiet. Birds hollered somewhere far up, wings slicing the morning like they owned it.

The Green Room

Every Saturday, I turn my tiny apartment into a ritual space. First comes cleaning. Floors, counters, windows—everything gets a wipe, a sweep, a proper look. Mess ain’t just dust and dirt. Mess is stress lying in wait, ready to push your brain into overdrive. Studies show that a clean environment can reduce anxiety and improve focus (Vartanian et al.). I don’t just do it for looks—I do it for my mind.

The Hero of Willow Creek

The town of Willow Creek been tight for years. Folks worked sunup to sundown, barely enough to keep the mills runnin’, the kids fed, and the roofs over their heads. Nobody ever called themselves a hero. That title felt too big. Too shiny. Too unreachable.

I found out differently.

The Last Cup of Hibiscus

I woke up early, the sky still stretchin’ blue through the blinds, and remembered I only got one tea bag left. Hibiscus. My favorite, but it ain’t just about taste. Hibiscus tea can help lower blood pressure and support heart health, which matter when your body already fightin’ stress (NCCIH).

Plants Don’t Rush Healing

I keep plants in my room for a reason. Not decoration. Regulation.

Morning light hit the windowsill just right, and my pothos leaned toward it like it knew what to do. Plants follow patterns. Light. Water. Time. They don’t argue with themselves about it.

I mist the leaves first. Not too much. Overwatering kill faster than neglect sometimes—that’s just life logic. Same way rest matter as much as effort.

Hair Day Economics

Wash day always tell the truth.

I stand in the bathroom, conditioner in my hair, fingers detanglin’ slow. Natural hair teach patience whether you want the lesson or not. Folks think hair is just style, but it’s labor. Time. Product. Decisions.

Money come into it quick.

The Deer That Didn’t Run

Everybody think freedom mean movin’ fast. Leavin’. Escapin’.

But the forest taught me different.

I stepped past the tree line at dusk, when the air cools but don’t bite yet. Leaves under my shoes sounded like secrets bein’ told on purpose. I wasn’t lost—I just wasn’t rushin’. That mattered. Mental health research shows time in natural environments can reduce stress and improve mood, even with short exposure (Bratman et al.). I came out here for that reason, not magic. Or maybe both.

Sweep First, Sip Later

I don’t clean ‘cause I’m bored. I clean ‘cause clutter mess with my head.

Mental health folks say a messy environment can increase stress and anxiety, especially for people already dealin’ with mood or thought disorders (National Institute of Mental Health). I ain’t need a study to tell me that, but it help hear professionals back it up.

Clean Glass, Clear Enough

They say drink water like it’s easy. Like your mind don’t argue with you about every small thing.

I learned hydration the hard way. My psychiatrist told me straight up that some antipsychotic medications can cause dry mouth and increase the risk of dehydration, especially if you forget to drink during the day (American Psychiatric Association). I ain’t like that fact, but I respected it.

Warm Cup, Steady Hands

Morning ain’t never rush me. My mind already runnin’ marathons before my feet touch the floor. I learned that about myself a long time ago. Schizophrenia don’t always look like folks think—it ain’t just seein’ things. Sometimes it’s thoughts stackin’ on top of thoughts, voices loud like a radio stuck between stations.

Sky Don’t Cage Nobody

They said the woods was quiet, but that was a lie. The trees stayed whisperin’, leaves talkin’ like aunties on the porch. I came out there ‘cause the city felt loud in my head, thoughts jumpin’ like they late for a bus.

The Owl’s Secret Path

The first light of dawn barely touched the edges of the Whispering Woods as my family—my sister Kaela, my younger brother Rami, and our cousin Liora—stepped onto a trail no one in our village had ever walked before.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Rami asked, running his fingers through his thick hair.

The Light of the Moonflower Meadow

The meadow glowed silver under the full moon as my family—my sister Amira, my younger brother Taye, and our cousin Soren—stood at its edge. Moonflowers stretched high, their petals shimmering like liquid light, and the air was alive with the soft hum of nighttime creatures.

The Wolf of Silver Pines

The sun had just begun to rise over Silver Pines, casting long shadows across the forest floor. My family—my sister Amaya, my brother Jahlani, and our cousin Tori—followed a narrow trail leading to a part of the woods we had never dared to explore.

“Why does it feel… different here?” Jahlani asked, running a hand through his messy hair.