Dancing is one of my favorite hobbies, and I will dance to practically any genre of music. It’s an exhilarating escape. Everything else fades away as my body glides, becoming one with the music, lost in its vibrant, pulsating energy.

I distinctly remember the January afternoon in 2008 when I moved into my Upper East Side Manhattan high-rise apartment. After hours of unpacking, night had fallen, and I was both physically and emotionally taxed. I plopped down on a stool by the window with a cup of tea and stared out into the darkness. The view was breathtaking.

It was late 2023, and I was snuggled into my favorite corner of my couch, utterly absorbed in the gripping Netflix documentary series "Bad Surgeon - Love Under The Knife." My memoir, "These Broken Roads: Scammed and Vindicated, One Woman’s Story," had just celebrated its one-month anniversary, and I was still riding the waves of excitement from my book launch and cabaret show.

While browsing the moisturizer aisle at Sephora, a voice called to me. "Do you like this lip color?" I turned to see a stunning black woman with almond-shaped eyes, deep cocoa-brown skin, and beautiful salt and pepper natural hair. Her full lips were covered with a bold bright red color.

My mother took her final breath and slipped away at 7:22 p.m. on Thursday, November 7, 2024, at The Good Samaritan Medical Center in West Palm Beach, Florida. At 88, she remained vibrant, opinionated, altruistic, and active until the end.

My pregnancy was fraught with 7 months of strict bed rest, preeclampsia, aggressive fibroids, gestational hypertension, and violent morning sickness that made no distinction between morning and night. 

As I headed out one morning with the great Luther Vandross crooning in my ears, I walked past a woman who I see most mornings in a little park in my neighborhood.

When I was twelve years old, I sat for what was then known as the Common Entrance (CE) exam.