Greetings

I was born in 1978, raised by a fierce, loving woman named Marva, and seasoned by the wisdom of my grandmother, Celestine. I was the youngest of the grandkids, the quiet one, the observer. While others were chasing basketballs, I was chasing crabs on the shoreline and lessons in life beside my grandparents.

​

My grandmother didn’t just raise me; she rooted me. From fishing trips to humming church songs through the house, she shaped the core of who I became. I was her assistant, her shadow, her little sponge soaking up every ounce of wisdom, love, and grace she poured out.

 

My mother, Marva, was a powerhouse in heels, a real estate queen, a manager of both business and hearts, and a woman of deep spirituality. She didn’t keep many friends, but her presence filled every room. Like her, I found comfort in solitude, power in words, and purpose in uplifting others.

 

I wasn’t always heard in the crowd, but I was always listening to the wind, to the water, to the quiet whispers of the universe. That listening turned into writing, and writing turned into healing. Not just for me, but for those who read my words and feel seen.

 

Life didn’t skip me when it handed out storms. I’ve been through fire, through loss, through deep internal battles. But the same hands that taught me how to cast a fishing line also taught me how to cast my cares and trust the current of the Creator.

 

Today, I write not from a place of perfection but from experience. I’ve been the broken one, the unseen one, the one asking why. And I’ve also been the one who kept going, who held on, who chose joy anyway.

 

This is my story. A story still being written with every sunrise, every act of kindness, and every breath of gratitude.