It’s just after 6 on a Tuesday morning. I’m woken by 50 pounds of Okoye on my stomach letting me know its potty time. Okoye is my baby Rottweiler, already too big to be in the bed and already spoiled enough to know that mommy won’t ever kick her out of the bed.

She wraps a paw around my waist as I snuggle into her shiny black fur and tell her how much I love her. She’s got dog breath and I have morning breath but we kiss and snuggle anyhow. As I rub behind her ear I am full of gratitude. I’m 48 today. It’s my birthday.

I look up at the ceiling, I left the fan on. The stirring wind and soft sounds are soothing at night, but I really need to work on turning it off. It’s a bad habit and I’ve overcome so many bad habits.

We get out of bed and I grab a robe, the house is comfortable but it’s late fall in Baltimore and as soon as I open the door the chill will remind me that while I technically live in the south this ain’t really the south.

We head down the steps and I let Okoye into the yard, and I am straight to the coffee pot. I never get tired of that pink Hello Kitty pot, but it might be time to order a back up one….just in case. I still debate if I want one of those fancy ones with the grinder and timer, but I remind myself that this morning routine has meaning. This is what I wanted this is what I dreamed and living it is a good thing.

I use the bathroom and start brushing my teeth when Okoye barks. She gives me a side eye that her breakfast isn’t ready. With a mouthful of Crest I remind her that it’s my birthday and she maintains her side eye.

Once her food is down and my coffee is ready I sit at the breakfast bar and smile. I haven’t opened the phone but the notifications tell me the well wishes started at midnight. Before I open it up though I give thanks to the ancestors I am here one more year. The smell of coffee lingers in the air. It mixes with the orange scent of the floor cleaner from last night and there is joy.

My kitchen. My counter. My baby and my coffee. There were times I didn’t think I would get here but I am here non the less. I rub my thigh and grab the iPad. I don’t yet know what the morning music will be. It’s going to be upbeat, it’s going to be an anthem. If this were a year ago it would be Lizzo, or Cardi but I am sure some other kick ass song was dropped this summer and now I’m gong to dance to it. Wiggle to it. Twerk to it. It’s my birthday and Okoye doesn’t judge, she just moves with me to the music.

I haven’t figured out breakfast. I feel like I should have bacon but I don’t necessarily feel like making it. Smoothie it is. I rub my hand along the front of the fridge, thanking it for being mine. Inside are the frozen fruits and kale. I even have juice eggs and lactaid. Go figure, I went shopping for food. I don’t have to take anything out for dinner I am celebrating later tonight but if I had to I could. There’s roast, and fish and chicken.

I head to the sink to rinse and make the shake, head nodding and singing. It’s the first time in five years I don’t live with another human, or have apartment neighbors. I can sing loud and wrong without having to worry if I am being a burden. While the blender chops and the smell of health drifts to my nostrils I finally open the messages.

The alerts started at midnight. My bestie, the lover, the social media posts have begun. They all want to tell me how great it is to be 48 and it is.

There is a message from him but I will save that one.

Okoye has settled into her corner and I pour my glass. As I take my first sips I look at the living room still full of boxes. I need to focus on unpacking. I owe myself the immediate commitment to this new home. Ive moved a fair amount over time, shit shit last year I moved twice. Since Limekiln I operated with the reluctance to settle in because I didn’t feel I deserved a place of my own, but that me doesn’t live here anymore. I resolve to make a plan and set the goal for 2 weeks.

I open up one more alert. The first time I saw this calendar was last year. He was coming to Philadelphia to bury a friend. I chuckle because I remember how my first reaction last year was NOT THAT WEEKEND!!! I didn’t truly believe that I could have that weekend and him. I was so wrong. I smile at that memory and thank the universe and the ancestors for moving me to this place of my life. He’s coming back to the East coast. His plane lands at 4pm. He is coming to Baltimore this time. On purpose. It’s still full of boxes but I have a place for him. We get a full week this time. We promised that at the end of that week we would finalize other plans, and we might, but first we have to make up for the fact it’s been since August and we are both missed.

As I finish the glass and move for the coffee I remind myself that this is the life I wanted. I sat at a folding table a year ago and dreamt of it. I think of Momma M and that time period and silently thank her. It was not what either of us planned but coming out of the Summer House was what I needed. It was what she needed too and the universe put us together like the particle accelerator on Flash. As Black women we were already superheroes, we just weren’t living up to that fully in those weeks.

The email notification pings and I open to see confirmation from the group. They accepted my pitch and are bringing me to Chicago for two presentations. They are also meeting my price. I swore I would never return to Chicago in winter, but now I am looking forward to the possibilities.

Happy Birthday Nicole.