Out Of Darkness

Introduction

I've often wondered how many people live surrounded in the obscurity of invisibility. A life where no one cares about his or her comings and goings. People who do everything alone, very little contact with the outside world, adding nothing to the office chatter at work, and unfortunately when death comes no one shed's a tear. Those people who exist in a hermit like state, viewing the world from their computer screen never venturing out to embrace everything life has to offer.

Several years ago, I read about a man who died at work while sitting at his desk. He lay slumped over his desk for a whole weekend before his body was found. No worried family member called around wondering why he hadn't come home. He had no friends who were concerned because they hadn't seen him in awhile. It just seems unfathomable that a person could leave this world and nobody care.

Most people who reside within the walls of invisibility are usually there by choice. They were placed there as a child never to escape that is if they ever want to. I wore my cloak of invisibility everyday blending into the shadows. I resided there with ease, not worried that life would pass me by. As the youngest of my parents' ten children, it was easy to be invisible.

When you have so many vying for attention it's easy to be lost in the shuffle. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a poor little girl lost in the shadows. I embraced my invisibility, it allowed me to maneuver undetected as I explored my surroundings and observe others as they go about their everyday lives. I have to admit that people watching is one of my favorite hobbies. People don't realize what they give away about themselves through body language.

While I admit to having hermit like tendencies I'm no longer hiding, I've come out of the shadows to embrace the sun. Out Of Darkness is an array of short stories and poems. It's been a long time coming, but I'm finally climbing out of my shell, out of darkness so to speak: sharing the beautiful, ugly, and strange moments in my life. I hope you get as much pleasure reading my adventures as I did from writing them.

Love & Blessings,

Stephanie Jean Smith

Rumination

Lately, I've been reflecting on my life, and I truly have no regrets. Everything in life is about making choices, and most of my choices were made with the concerted effort of what is best for my family. I love who I am, and now that I'm no longer hiding behind the scenes, I like myself even more.

Beautiful

Can A Sista Get A Piece Of Cake

Chocolate

Could Have Been More

Daddy's Girl

Friends

Heaven's Door

I See You

Like An Island

Music For The Soul

Not A Dream

Pockets Of Life

Reflection On Mother's Day

Short Trip

Smells

Thank You For My Flowers

Thankful

They Lived

Traveling With Mother

Tremble

Woman Of Distinction

Your Friend

Beautiful

He kissed me and called me beautiful.

I was unprepared for the tidal waves of feelings bursting from deep inside my chest.

I've been told I'm cute, I'm funny, and have a warped sense of humor.

Mannerly and polite.

That I have large eyes that are strange in color.

One guy in high school even told me that I would be sexy if he could put my head on the body of a girl who just happen to be walking by.

Low and behold, no man has ever called me beautiful.

I rushed in the bathroom to check my extremely ordinary face looking for the beauty of which he spoke.

Try as I might, I couldn't see beauty I only saw me.

The face that hides all the turmoil begging to be set free.

A mask that keeps the world at bay, but yet still his words struck a chord making me wonder what is the beauty he sees.

Unable to come to my own conclusion I pressed him for an answer and this was his reply.

He said, many women are pretty they wear it like a badge drawing others to their side.

However, all that pretty can't hide all the ugly they're trying to hide.

He went further saying that my beauty is more than skin-deep, my heart is whole, and my feelings run deep.

He told me that I'm beautiful; I no longer question it, and take it as my due. I may have found that significant someone who can acknowledge that beauty is more than skin-deep and can appreciate the real me.

Can A Sista Get a Piece of Cake?

Funerals, weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, baby showers, and family reunions have a few things in common. Food is served and usually there is CAKE. I’m not suggesting by any means that I have a sweet tooth, which I appease by attending these events. I can make specialty (Red Velvet, German Chocolate, Carrot, Banana, Carmel, etc) cakes that will melt in your mouth. Moreover, I’m a person of simple tastes, and there’s nothing better than a fresh, moist, marble or white cake from the bakery with butter cream frosting, of course.

I have one question. Who's grandiose idea was it to cut the cake last? I can list numerous occasions in which I had to wait for the cake to be cut. If food is served buffet style, the cake should already be cut and ready to serve. I’m a person who does not want to attend any of the previously mentioned events. Once there, I usually help serve the food all for the single-minded goal of cutting the cake.

A funeral is my least favorite event to attend for obvious reasons; however, the kitchen committee is right on target with the cake. Often times I work in the kitchen just so I can snitch a piece of cake. It may be hard to find a bakery cake at the family dinner, but hopefully someone will make a decent pound cake (not often). Once my need for cake is assuaged, I can receive the decease’s relations with a smile. Even when they act like animals at a zoo; pushing other people out of line as if they have never seen food before.

Weddings and anniversaries are pretty much the same, having to wait for the bride and groom or the honorees to show up. Once they show up do they get right down to business of cutting the cake, of course not? They have to greet all the well-wishers; hugging, kissing and running their mouths. They don't care that my only interest at this point is to obtain a piece of cake.

After 30-45 minutes of glad-handing. Dinner has to be served quickly followed by several announcements of love and happiness. Then the bride and groom have their first dance together as husband and wife (blah blah blah). The whole time I’m thinking when will cake cutting commence. When the cake is finally cut, it might as well be hors d'oeuvres. Don’t insult me by placing those bite size pieces of cake on a plate. Just spear those tiny squares and put them on a tray. (This bit of advice is for all the people planning a wedding or anniversary celebration. Order enough damn cake for everybody, one sheet cake, is not enough for 200 people).

Birthdays and baby showers are the absolute worst. First dinner is served, if it's an adult event, dinner might consist of meatballs and barbecue weenies. At least at a child’s party one can probably get a complete meal like hotdogs and hamburgers with all the fixings. Is the cake served after dinner? No, at least not until a series of games are played, and I won't fail to mention the arduous task of opening presents. Then I can sit there, ooh, and ah about how terrific the gifts are. Heaven help me if it’s a child opening gifts because children are sidetracked remarkably easily and want to play. The whole time I’m sitting there daydreaming about what kind of cake is in the bakery box. I look at my watch constantly hoping that it’s closer to the time the cake will finally be cut.

I’ve tried to avoid these situations by arriving late to birthday parties and showers, but that doesn’t work. Once I arrived at a party fifteen minutes before a party was supposed end only to find them still eating dinner. Now I have a friend who throws a mean children’s party if the invitation says 2-4 pm, that party will start on time and end at 3:59 pm. Partygoers will leave the party happy with their party bags in hand. Now that’s the kind of party I can arrive at late, drop off my gift, and know that the cake has been cut.

Now it's time to discuss the dreaded family reunions. I don’t care for family reunions because I swear that if these people weren’t related to me, I would avoid them at all costs. We had a family reunion on my Dad’s side of the family a few years ago. Fifteen minutes before the family dinner is supposed to start my sister is calling me demanding to know when I was going to get there (she didn’t want to be alone with these ignorant people). My Mother told me directly she did not intend to attend this family reunion after all they're not her family. It’s my Dad’s crazy family, and she’d had enough of them to last a lifetime. I felt exactly the same way, but I promised my nephew that we would attend.

Two of my brothers, threes of my sisters, my nephew, and I attended the reunion. After several bouts of dirty dancing, singing, and my brother’s critiques of the DJ, dinner was finally served. The catfish was spicy and hot, the coleslaw delicious, and the spaghetti was edible. In the midst of dinner, my drunken cousins got on the dance floor and tried to hook up with other relatives.

I must have passed my quest for cake onto my nephew; he and I sat there for two hours wondering when the cake would be served. Finally, as people began to leave someone finally came up with the bright idea to cut the cake (of course I wasn’t crass enough to yell cut the cake, so I had my nephew do it). It was a glorious white cake trimmed with pink frosting. I put most of this awful evening out of my mind, but the cake was absolutely worth the wait.

I think the absolute worst time to try to secure a piece of cake is at a graduation party. My godson graduated from high school last year, and his mother gave him a beautiful graduation party. I took one of my younger nephews with me to the graduation party. I gave my godson his graduation gift, hugged him, and wished him a bright future. Then I sat down and waited for two hours for a piece of cake.

I made several suggestions throughout the party that people were leaving wouldn't it be swell if someone cut the cake. I went to my friend of twenty-five years and said, "I sure would like a piece of cake before I get too old to enjoy it or care. My friend essentially told me to blow it out my ***! Well, my friend was a little tired and cutting cake was the least of her worries. So, I tried to corral my godson into cutting the cake. He was too busy talking to friends to worry about cake.

They left me no choice; I sent a text message to everyone who knew my godson and his mother. I pissed and moaned about how long I waited for a lousy piece of cake. Eureka! The woman managing the building received a text that said, Will someone, please cut Stephanie a piece of cake. The woman showed my friend the text, and she caught me on the way out the door.

My friend asked me where I was going; I told her I was going to the bakery to get a slice of cake. She couldn't believe the means and methods I would go to in my desire for cake. She kept repeating really incessantly as if she couldn't believe I was serious. Finally, she asked her sister to cut the damn cake! My nephew and I received our cake and happily departed after nearly three hours of torture.

Friends and love ones, I know you probably think I’m insane. However, I’m willing to bet that I’m not the only one waiting for the cake to be served at these events. So the next time you have a party try serving the cake first or at least with dinner. I guarantee that your house will clear out faster, and guests like me will leave satisfied.

Chocolate

I didn't realize my predilection for Chocolate until he made his presence known.

Smooth skin, sexy voice, and eyes full of sin.

Chocolate stays on my mind, I yearn to get just a taste.

His luscious full lips encompass mine making me pine for his orgasmic energy.

Oh, my goodness Chocolate is so smooth, rich, and creamy.

The sweet taste on my tongue makes me crave it even more.

Who knew that Chocolate could be so addictive, he keeps me primed and ready to go.

Oh Lord help me, there's just something about Chocolate that keeps a sista on her knees.

Chocolate's not a selfish lover, and it's his pleasure to cater to me.

If you find your own source of Chocolate here's a bit of advice

Don't let your friends or families know because those heffa's will beat a path to his door.

They'll try to steal your Chocolate from you just to get a taste for themselves.

I indulge in Chocolate every chance that time allows he always satisfies my appetite morning, noon, and night.

I will never give up my Chocolate, not for any price

Could Have Been More

One lazy Saturday evening I went to visit my Aunt Claudella. She's not actually my aunt, but a much-loved church member who's truly special to me. She and I sat outside for hours talking about family members,