sisterhood feels like…


Sisterhood feels like us.

Like us making up dances in your mother’s living room and getting a stern look when she caught us mid bodyroll.

It’s like us taking a break because life hit hard insanely fast, only to makeup in a small Italian restaurant.

Shedding tears over white sangria and tri-colored pasta.

It feels like me waking up to you holding me in a hospital bed, telling me that everything would be okay even though we both really didn’t know.

Sisterhood is your momma loving me because you do.

It’s her helping you love me. It’s you two driving miles to DC to make sure that I was okay.

Me letting you con me into blow drying alllll that damn hair, and you asking if I can do the vixen curls too since the flatiron is already plugged up.

It’s us staying up all night on a Thursday watching 2000s rap videos because no one else can point out a Hype Williams video like you can.

It’s your momma reading my posts and telling me to keep going. It’s your auntie giving me the biggest hug ever every single time we see each other. It’s you stepping in when others left.

It’s you. it’s you. it’s you.

It’s me sending “YAS” with an infinite amount of s’ because you did something as monumental as breathing.

It’s me making sure your momma has a seat at the probate and letting her know what the hell those weird noises yal made were.

It’s me calling you my sister because you came into my life as my little sister’s bestfriend. It’s us sitting around in sweatpants anxiously awaiting the On the Run premiere on HBO because well, it was a rough summer and sometimes you just don’t have $200 to see Beyonce.

It’s the look one of us gives when the other one says “eh, I don’t really have it” because I didn’t ask you that. What do you want to eat?

It’s the way I held you when they took your brother. It’s the way you yelled for me at my graduation. It’s me thanking God for you. Honoring you daily and asking why I am so blessed to have such an esteemed woman in my tribe.

It’s you checking me when I’ve gone too far. Interjecting my rant with a “Rif.” Me getting quiet and listening to you give me a detailed analysis of where I fucked up and what’s necessary to correct it.

It’s you letting me know that I can correct it.

It’s like you knowing that I will protect you until the day I die.

It’s you not being too worried because even though people are crazy, I’m people and they don’t want this issue.

It’s watching you recover from giving birth to my niece.

It’s me admiring you for being such an incredible mother. It’s the fact that some of us chose each other and some of us didn’t.

It’s our mommas knowing that we are safe as long as the other one is somewhere in the vicinity.

It’s you not needing me because you’re strong.

It’s you allowing me to love you anyway.

It’s til 3am.

It’s til the very end.