I was born on a Tuesday, the last one of 1976 as it turns out, so the day holds a sense of nostalgia for me. It’s my favorite day of the week because of this, and because it’s situated so neatly in the week overall. It’s not the dreaded Monday, nor the awaited Friday. It’s not the day now commonly known as Hump Day, and it’s not the Lord’s Day. It’s not any of those days that have preconceived baggage and connotations attached to them. So it’s fitting that I love it best, that it characterizes me more than any other.
With that being said, I’m starting a new series this week that focuses on two blessings in my life, blessings in the sense that I’m grateful for them on not just Tuesdays, but every day. I’ll just be posting them on Tuesdays. Now on with the show…
- I’m grateful for being black. I don’t say African-American because there is just so much more that describes my history than being marginalized as some minority group in this country. I love being black because it encompasses so much. There’s the historical significance, the struggle for relevance in a world determined to belittle my ancestors, but there’s also today. There’s looking in the mirror and seeing someone I’m proud to be.
- I’m grateful for the snow. After a week of sub-zero temperatures I can honestly say I prefer a ton of snow to ridiculously frigid weather. There’s just something about that fresh white powder falling from the sky that makes me feel young again, that makes me feel like a child looking up at it for the very first time. I like to stand outside when it’s snowing, those big fat flakes that melt on my tongue when I open my mouth. There’s nothing quite like snow.