Vixen Chronicles

      All of my Christmas Shopping is done without out me setting foot in a mall. Everything is wrapped, in coordinating paper and placed under the Christmas Tree. All of the kids know the rules; they must avert their eyes as if nothing is there. This is how Black Santa works.      He is magical.      The boxes are actually empty until the stroke of Midnight of Christmas Eve, when the presents materialize inside their wrappings. If you open them early, you will only find coal or air. The offspring understand this, though I did catch Midime checking out a few boxes this week. The stockings were disturbed,too. It's hard to get away with that stuff, even if you try really hard to return the boxes back to the exact spot they were in before you meddled with them when you have a mother who studies behavior and watches people for a living.      Yesterday, new gifts started appearing under the tree, very easy to spot because the...

If you've read "A letter for my Mother", you probably realize that Mother's Day is a hard one for me. Not hard, as in difficult, but more like awkward. My family lost my mother before I was old enough to make gifts at school or make her breakfast in bed, so I spent those years making Mother's Day cards for my father before that was a thing and when teachers would still say that your family of your black father raising  two small kids was not a family. My father would accept his cards filled with puns based around him being the best "mother-father" in the world with half a smile on his face and keep on going. But we went through.  As I came into my own womanhood and had children on my own, I was blessed with a older sibling that stood in to help me find my way into grownupness. Although circumstances might have dictated that we not be friends, her mother had taught her to hold ALL siblings close. She'd taught her that when your parents pass on to the ...