When I happened across Nevaeh, I couldn’t help but notice a woman so beautiful. She was studying in the campus library for a midterm of the same psyche class I was in. Nevaeh stood at an even five feet, she was an Afrocentric, goddess that brought my childish ways to their knees. I remember bringing her home for the very first time and my mom fell in love with her just as quickly as I did.
“He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the Lord.” I was married a year in advance before I even got on one knee, she was already sold on her new daughter in law. All Pop’s had to say was “That’s you Boi? Iight now I see ya son. Got taste like ya old man.” All I could do was laugh as we shared a cold one.
We spent that year in complete paradise, of course, we had rough waves but this was a ship I was sailing until Davy Jones locker. Outside of being my wife, she was also the mother to our two seeds of love and passion, Mekhi, now 1, and his big sister Ava, 6. We were happy, yea happy, simple as that, but… was it really so simple? I started to become stagnant with my life.
“Samir, Baby come down for breakfast!” she called out to me. Quickly, I cleaned up and dignified myself, as I stared into the mirror, fragmented bits of memory flashed across the reflective glass. There was a woman with long starry night hair that flowed down the voluptuous of her warm cinnamon spiced flesh, my hands surveyed every single one of her most sensitive areas, planting kisses marking the spots.
“BABY!” like static the image was disrupted and then gone, I shook my head, splashing water on my face. “She’s so sexy.” I smiled. Even after all these years we still manage to keep things… entertaining.
I proceed downstairs towards the kitchen, the air was filled with the aroma of eggs, bacon, grits, and pancakes, knowing she did them up with the crispy edges my favorite. Southern Breakfast at its finest!