I can’t sleep. There’s too much on my mind. I’ll just lay here in the dark…I’d rather not see the cockroaches scatter – we’ll just pretend they’re not there.

Surely my life can’t get any worse than it is now! Surely this is all just a nightmare, from which I will soon wake up! 

I pop open my jambox, drop in my favorite New Edition cassette tape and press play  – “Can You Stand the Rain” plays softly – an attempt to transport myself to a more calming space – a break from the noise.

But the questions continue to bounce around in my mind:

What will tomorrow bring?

I know this life isn’t normal, but what is normal?

Will we have lights and water this month?

Will we have food in the fridge?

Why does my Momma work so hard, yet we never seem to come close to breaking even?

When will my dad come home?

When my dad comes home, will his priorities finally shift to his family over his friends and drugs?

How is my baby brother? Should I go get him and have him sleep with me?

When will this whole COVID – 19 thing come to an end?

How quickly will they find a cure?

They say senior citizens are at a higher risk of dying from complications due to this disease. I wonder how my Ma and Grandaddy are doing in Central Texas? I sure hope they’re ok.

The new Jordan Vs come out next week. I know we don’t have the money, but man I sure would like a pair. 

And school…oh school. How on earth will I keep up with this whole school at home thing?

My daily home-life is already challenging, but now I’m in junior high – a seventh grader – 12 years old. I felt largely invisible throughout elementary school. I went to three different schools, and had many teachers, but never really felt connected.

While the connection hasn’t been there, school has always been a place of consistency to counterbalance the chaos in my home life.

I know I’m going to get breakfast and lunch. I know I’m going to have structured time in the day to read, conduct science experiments, socialize with my friends, try my best at math (not my strong suit), give theatre a shot, and play on the basketball team.

I’m not the best player – as a matter of fact, I made the grey team, which is basically the team for the kids who simply showed up to tryouts. Some would say we’re the “scrubs”. My skills are lacking, but I have a coach who’s really cool, and he seems to care about me.

Coach Carmona looks like me. He’s the first teacher I’ve ever had that looks like me. He appears to be 10 feet tall. He’s strong, confident, inspiring, and has hair like mine. He seems to see something in me. I don’t know what it is – I’m just a little scrawny kid, nappy-headed kid with little-to-no basketball skills.

Up to this point in my life I’ve been a skateboarder. There’s just been something about skating – the sound of the gravel moving underneath me, the wind rushing towards me, the freedom, the tricks, and the fact that the only person I had to rely on was me. It gave me a sense of liberation, loosening the grip of my everyday reality.

But now, basketball seems to fill that void although, like I’ve said,  I’m not very good at it. Coach Carmona comes early and stays late to work with me. No matter how many times I screw up, he continues to encourage me. It’s got to be frustrating for him because I am T-E-R-R-I-B-L-E, but he never lets frustration show. Although there are many times I feel like a lost cause, he remains steadfast in his approach with me. What a dude! 

Coach, I sure wish my dad were more like you!

But now Coach Carmona, and everything about school is gone.  One day we’re on spring break – the next, school is closed. This Pandemic has rocked our world. School, my place of consistency and structure, has been stripped from my life.

Also, they have issued strict stay-at-home orders and we’ve been given guidance on something called social distancing, where we are told to be at least 6 feet apart. I’m good with that – I’m not one for people in my space – but now with the whole stay-at-home order,  I’m stuck here in the confines of the chaos – alone, bewildered, and grasping for hope.

Within the lines of that basketball court I could escape the troubles of this world, much like the freedom of skating, but now all I have is the dirt front yard with a basketball goal – I guess that’ll have to do.

Momma’s still working, thank goodness. I don’t think K-Mart is going to close any time soon. Only essential businesses are allowed to remain open, at this point. While they don’t have groceries, they do have essential items people need, such as toilet paper and clothes. People have lost their ever-loving mind over toilet paper! She’s had to work a lot more lately due to what’s going on with this pandemic.

I worry about her health and safety. I sure don’t want my mom to get sick. What would happen to us if she was unable to work? We’re already either behind or month-to-month on our utilities and rent. It’s hard to imagine things getting worse, but Momma always tells me to be grateful because things could definitely be worse. I’m starting to see what she’s talking about, as worse seems to be inevitable.

My baby brother, Michael (Mikey), is 2. Much of my day is devoted to him. While he’s doing so much more these days, he’s still a baby that requires loads of attention.

I hope I’m a good big brother! 

I hoped and prayed for him for 10 years, and I finally got my baby brother. He’s brought so much joy and light into my life. It was my hope that his presence may change the trajectory of our families lives for the better – I sure wasn’t enough. But now it appears he has just been brought into this madness. No one person can change this.

I’m so sorry, Mikey! Momma and I are doing the best we can, given the circumstances.

Our teachers drove through our neighborhood the other day to wave and say “hi”. It was so good to see them. They’ve sent packets of work home for us to do. I’ve tried to do my best, when I have time. I love to read, and that provides a great escape for me when I can dive into a book, but science and math – forget about it.

It was hard enough when I had a teacher there to guide me and to ask questions. Now I’m trying to learn this stuff on my own. The struggle is ALL THE WAY REAL! I’ll give it my best, but I fear my best isn’t going to cut it. Ultimately, I have more pressing concerns in my life that require my immediate attention.

I sure hope they understand.

Momma should be home anytime now. 

Actually, she should’ve been here by now. 

What’s going on? 

It’s getting late and I’ve already pulled together what was left to eat for lunch, which wasn’t much. Momma said she was grabbing some groceries at the end of her shift, as our food stamps just arrived and she was able to get to them before my dad had the chance to sell them for cash.

Oh snap, there she is!

I hear the old Buick Regal coming down the road. I see the headlights shine through the window. I put Mikey down and ran out to help Momma with the groceries. As she gets out of the car she attempts a smile, but I can see right through it.

I know this woman like the back of my hand – she’s my everything, my best friend.

Something’s up!

I give her a great big hug!

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, Jamie!’ she says, wrapping me in her arms. There’s nothing like Momma’s hugs. You can feel it deep in your soul.

“How was your day, baby?” She asks.

I grabbed the 5 sacks of groceries (you know, because you gotta get em’ all in one trip) and say, “you know, Momma, it wasn’t that bad. Mikey and I played out front, I read to him, I tried to do a little bit of math – that made my head hurt. A couple people came by to try to collect money from dad. How many people does he owe? Good grief! I’m glad you got here when you did because Mikey was getting hungry. That boy can eat like a grown man”

Momma laughs and says “my goodness, baby! That sounds like a full day! How are you feeling? Are you feeling ok?”

“Yes ma’am! We made sure not to play with any other kids outside and I didn’t open the door for anyone, I just talked to them through the door when the folks came asking about money from dad” I replied.

“How about you, Momma? How are you?” I ask.

There was a hesitancy in her response – an uncommon pause, as words were not something my Momma struggled to string together. Something was wrong.

“Well Jamie, I feel fine. So I am so grateful for that. There are many who are getting ill, and even some who are dying. I can’t imagine what those families are going through.” she says somberly.

“I know, Momma, it’s like you always say ‘count your blessings, things could always be worse’…that’s so true for so many people. It’s sad” I said.

“It sure is, baby boy” she replies.

“Unfortunately, I got some news today that puts us in that ‘could be worse’ category.” she added with tears in her eyes.

She went on to say that they were having to lay off people at K-Mart and since she was one of the most recently hired she was on the list of those released. Just about a year ago she experienced a similar situation where she had been laid off from Claydesta Communications, a job she had for several years since we moved out here – something about a reduction in force.

My emotions begin to swirl – anger, frustration, sadness, fear, and hurt. A twisted storm raged deep in my soul.

Yes, things have definitely gotten worse.

What are we going to do? 

Any form of consistency has now been stripped from our lives. Bills would be coming due soon, and we barely had food to make it through the month.

And dad, where is he? 

Does he not understand the magnitude of the moment? 

Why am I, at 12 years old, having to be the man of the house? 

Where is he? 

I try my best to comfort Momma, but I’m shook and deep in my feelings.

Momma makes chicken and dumplings, which is usually reserved for special celebrations, but we needed this meal for our souls tonight.

After dinner I retreat to my room, lay on my bed, and just look up at the ceiling. My thoughts are scattered, too much to pull together to make any sense.

I look around the room – posters of Michael Jordan and The Chicago Bulls line my walls. Basketball, my world to escape and get lost in, isn’t even on TV. My Bulls are poised to win the whole thing this year – no more Pistons and Lakers – it is our time, but now even the NBA is shut down.

How big is this whole thing, really? Is there something bigger at play that we just don’t know about yet? 

I bury my head into my pillow and begin to cry. Is this the end of the world?

Wait, I hear something. 

It’s the sound of bath water rushing down the drain. I hear Momma’s voice. She’s finishing up Mikey’s bath and I know what’s coming next – she’s going to jump on that piano!

Y’all, my Momma can straight JAM on that piano. And her voice…words escape me as to how to describe it…it is powerful, serene, and has the capacity to transport you to an alternate reality, an escape from the madness.

I pop up with a renewed urgency in my step and energy in my soul. Is she going to play and sing, in the midst of this chaos?

I hope so.

I wait by my door, fearing that the despair of the moment will surely cancel out this nightly event I’ve grown accustomed to. In this moment, I so desperately needed it.

I wait. Then suddenly, I hear the stroke of those keys. That intro, then the powerful words:

When you’re down and troubled…

I bust open the door and run the short distance down the hall to Momma’s piano. I grab Mikey and we sit next to her on the piano bench. She looks at us with a huge smile on her face and continues:

And you need a helping hand

And nothing, nothing is going right

Close your eyes and think of me

And soon I will be there

To brighten up even your darkest night

I join in, Momma and I, now gazing at each other, tears streaming down our face:

You just call out my name

And you know wherever I am

I’ll come running, oh yeah baby, to see you again

Winter, spring, summer or fall

All you’ve got to do is call

And I’ll be there, ye, ye, ye

You’ve got a friend

I don’t know whether I will play basketball again.

I don’t know if my dad will ever come back.

I don’t know if my mom will be able to find another job.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get to those assignments they’re sending, or if I’ll be able to understand them enough to do them.

So much uncertainty in my life.

But tonight, we sing, laugh, smile and cry. We pray for others, understanding that, while we struggle, so many have worse circumstances. We’re grateful for our health, and each other.

We give each other hugs, kisses, say “I love you” and “goodnight”.

And now, I’m off to bed. I turn off the lights and lie in the darkness. It’s quiet. It’s as if my whole day has been rewound like that New Edition cassette tape.

Rewind.

Press play.

Can You Stand the Rain?

Sleep escapes me. In the silence my mind begins to wonder, yet again.

What will tomorrow bring?