As a Black woman aging, I’m looking at life through a whole new set of spectacles. Yes, I am telling some of my personal business.
I’ve spent most of my life working, hustling, keeping everything together, but not always nurturing the one person who needed it most: my hubby (Rico). #mylovelife
Growing up, I didn’t have a real example of what Black love looked like in a home. My mom never married, but she raised us as if two parents were there every day. I learned strength, independence, and how to “do it all because that is what my mother did,” even if it wore me thin.
So when I met my husband, please believe I had a wall so high it needed its own city permit to operate. And on that wall was a sign that basically said: What can you do for me that I can’t do for myself? And yes, I really did say that
And, yeah, it sounds like a Tyler Perry plotline, but the folks who know me know this was my real life and true story.
Anyways, I was stubborn but ready for love, even if I didn’t know how to say it. And my soulmate, who later became my husband, did something so crazy. He answered that stupid OZ question.
He said, “I came to take care of you and your kids, if you’ll have me. I only want to be an addition to your life.” Screaming, I am not joking one bit. :) #thatsmymanrightthere
But I looked at him as if he was crazy, because he was younger than me, for one. Although he had a good job, I couldn’t get past the age gap. It wasn’t that bad, but he was so persistent.

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