Book Club

Not Everything I Write Is Meant to Be Published

I have been writing a lot lately, but probably not in the way people imagine when I tell them that I write.

I haven’t been working much on fiction. In fact, I haven’t felt particularly motivated to return to my fictional stories for some time. The characters are still there. The stories haven’t disappeared. I simply haven’t felt the pull to enter those worlds again.

Instead, most of my writing lately has been reflective.

Deeply reflective.

I’ve been writing about memories, experiences, relationships, questions, things I understand now that I didn’t understand years ago, and probably a few things I’m still trying to understand.

Some of it may eventually find its way into something I publish.

Most of it probably won’t.

And I’m beginning to realize that I’m okay with that.

Writing Without an Audience

There is an interesting shift that happens when you stop asking, Would someone want to read this?

You start asking different questions.

What am I actually trying to say?

Why do I remember this?

Why does this still matter to me?

What do I understand differently now?

There is freedom in writing something that doesn’t have to become a blog post, a memoir, a novel, or anything else.

Sometimes the page can simply be the place where a thought gets to exist.

For someone who loves writing, that may sound obvious. But we live in a time when we’re constantly encouraged to turn the things we create into something—content, a product, a brand, a finished project.

I’m learning that some words don’t need an audience.

Sometimes writing is simply a conversation with yourself.

Returning to Old Books

Interestingly, while my desire to write fiction has been quiet, my desire to read hasn’t disappeared.

I’ve found myself returning to books I’ve read before.

Right now, I’m rereading two very different works: Albert Camus’s The Stranger and the Book of Enoch.

Putting those two titles next to each other makes me smile a little because they couldn’t appear more different.

One is a twentieth-century novel often associated with questions of absurdity, alienation, meaning, and the human condition.

The other is an ancient religious text filled with visions, angels, judgment, heavenly realms, and questions about humanity’s relationship with the divine.

And somehow, I find both fascinating.

Maybe that isn’t as strange a pairing as it initially seems.

Both make me stop.

Both make me question things.

Both make me think about what it means to be human and how people throughout history have tried to understand existence, morality, death, judgment, and our place in a world that doesn’t always make sense.

I don’t necessarily read because I expect a book to give me answers.

Sometimes I read because I appreciate a book that gives me better questions.

The Book Changes Because the Reader Does

There is another reason I’ve come to appreciate rereading.

The words on the page haven’t changed.

I have.

A book I read at twenty may not feel like the same book when I read it in my forties. Experiences accumulate. Beliefs evolve. Certainties become questions, and sometimes questions eventually become a different kind of certainty.

Things I once skimmed over suddenly stop me.

Ideas I accepted without much thought now make me pause.

And passages I once thought I understood can take on an entirely different meaning.

Maybe that is one of the beautiful things about books.

We don’t simply read them.

We bring ourselves to them.

Our history. Our questions. Our grief. Our curiosity. Our beliefs. Our doubts. Our experiences.

And every time we return, we bring a slightly different version of ourselves.

Maybe This Is My Writing Season

For now, I don’t know when I’ll return to writing fiction.

I’m trying not to force it.

The stories will be there when I’m ready for them.

Right now, I seem to be in a season of looking inward, putting experiences into words, revisiting ideas, and reading things that make me think.

Maybe none of those private pages will ever become a book.

Maybe some of them will.

I don’t think I need to decide that yet.

For now, it is enough to write because I need to write and to read because I am still curious.

And perhaps that’s what I’ve been rediscovering lately:

Not everything we write needs to be published.

Not every book we read needs to give us answers.

And sometimes we return to an old book not because the story has changed—

but because we have.

Gardening

A Garden Full of Surprises: Looking Back at My Summer Harvest

There is something incredibly satisfying about standing in your kitchen and realizing that so much of the food sitting in front of you came from just outside your door.

This summer, Haven Harvest Garden gave me tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, herbs, corn, sweet potatoes, melons and plenty of surprises along the way.

Some things grew exactly as I hoped they would.

Some things didn’t.

And some things seemed to have plans of their own.

Looking at everything I’ve harvested over the past few months, I realize that may be one of the things I love most about gardening: you can make all the plans you want, but the garden still has plans of its own.

When the Garden Gives You More Than You Expected

There were days this summer when I would walk outside thinking I was just going to check on the garden and somehow come back inside carrying tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, herbs or sweet potatoes.

And the tomatoes!

So. Many. Tomatoes.

At one point, I had an entire pan covered with tomatoes of every size and at different stages of ripeness.

Some were perfectly round. Others weren’t.

Some were tiny. Some were huge.

And I loved every imperfect one.

Growing my own food continues to remind me how accustomed we’ve become to seeing perfectly shaped produce at the grocery store. But real food doesn’t always look like that.

A tomato doesn’t have to be perfectly round to be delicious.

Neither does a pepper.

Neither does a sweet potato.

The garden doesn’t care about appearances. It simply grows.

The Mystery Melon 🍈

Then there was the melon.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I had growing in my garden.

From the outside, it looked like a cantaloupe. When I finally harvested one and cut it open, there was that beautiful orange flesh that made me think I’d solved the mystery.

Then I tasted it.

It tasted more like honeydew.

Whatever my mystery melon decided to be, it was delicious.

And honestly, I think the mystery made it even better.

There was something fun about watching something grow without being entirely sure what I was going to get in the end.

The melon plants certainly weren’t shy, either.

They spread.

And spread.

And spread some more.

Which brings me to my peanuts.

Somewhere Under Those Melons Are My Peanuts 🥜

I decided to try growing peanuts this year, and technically, I succeeded.

They grew!

The problem was that my melon vines apparently had much bigger ambitions.

As the melons took off, their vines spread through the garden and eventually overtook the area where my peanuts were growing.

So now I have absolutely no idea what kind of peanut harvest I’m going to get.

There may be a wonderful little crop developing underneath the soil.

There may be five peanuts down there.

I genuinely don’t know.

For now, that part of the Haven Harvest story is simply:

To be continued…

And perhaps that’s gardening in its purest form.

Sometimes you plant something, do your best, and wait to see what the earth gives back.

Sweet Potatoes: A Harvest Above and Below the Soil

My sweet potatoes were another highlight of this year’s garden.

Of course, I was growing them for the sweet potatoes themselves, but I also discovered how much I could enjoy the plant before it was ever time to dig beneath the soil.

I harvested the sweet potato leaves and used them to make plasas, connecting something growing in my Virginia backyard with the Sierra Leonean foods that are part of my heritage.

That made this particular crop feel even more special.

There is something powerful about walking outside, harvesting food with your own hands, carrying it into your kitchen and turning it into something that connects you to another place and another generation.

And then came the actual sweet potato harvest.

Digging for root vegetables always feels a little like a treasure hunt.

You know they’re supposed to be under there.

But you don’t really know what you’ve grown until you start digging.

And this year, there was plenty of treasure waiting beneath the soil.

The Cabbage Battle I Definitely Did Not Win

Of course, not everything in Haven Harvest flourished.

My cabbage is proof of that.

Remember those little bugs I found all over my cucumbers?

Well, apparently they weren’t finished with me.

They eventually took over my cabbage too, and unfortunately, that battle did not end in my favor.

Gardening has a way of humbling you.

You can spend weeks nurturing a plant, watching new leaves emerge and imagining what you’re eventually going to harvest—and then a tiny insect shows up with completely different plans.

This year, the bugs won the cabbage.

Next year, I’ll be better prepared.

I’m learning that recognizing problems earlier, paying closer attention to vulnerable plants and having a plan for protecting them are just as much a part of gardening as planting seeds and harvesting vegetables.

The cabbage wasn’t necessarily a failure.

It was information.

And information is something I can take into the next growing season.

Corn, Cucumbers, Peppers and Everything in Between

Not every crop produced the same amount, and that’s okay too.

I’m beginning to understand that gardening success doesn’t have to mean producing enough food to feed your family for an entire year.

Sometimes success is walking outside and picking a cucumber for dinner.

Sometimes it’s grabbing a handful of herbs.

Sometimes it’s watching a pepper finally change color after checking it every day for what feels like forever.

Sometimes it’s harvesting ears of corn that started as tiny seeds pushed into the soil months earlier.

And sometimes it’s standing in your kitchen looking at containers overflowing with produce and thinking:

I grew that.

There is a particular kind of pride that comes from growing your own food.

Not because every vegetable is perfect.

Not because everything you planted survived.

But because you participated in the process.

You planted.

You watered.

You waited.

You worried.

You fought bugs.

You pulled weeds.

You wondered whether something was ever going to produce.

And eventually, you harvested.

The Garden Is Always Teaching Me

Every gardening season teaches me something.

Some plants thrive.

Some struggle.

Some seeds never germinate.

Some plants appear where I don’t remember planting anything at all.

Some plants apparently believe the entire garden belongs to them. I’m looking at you, melons.

There are pests.

There are weeds.

There are ridiculously hot Virginia days when watering the garden feels like one more thing on an already very long to-do list.

There are moments when I wonder whether all the work is worth it.

Then harvest day comes.

I carry the food inside.

And I remember why I started.

Haven Harvest Garden isn’t perfect.

I’m still learning. I’m still experimenting. I’m still figuring out what grows best in my space and how I want this little backyard ecosystem to develop.

But every year, it feels a little more established.

A little more productive.

And a little more like mine.

From Summer Harvest to Fall Garden 🍂

Now summer is beginning to wind down, but Haven Harvest Garden isn’t finished.

It’s simply changing seasons.

Soon I’ll begin transitioning parts of the garden for cooler weather and deciding what will take the place of the summer plants as they finish producing.

And, because apparently I can’t resist experimenting with something new, I’m especially excited about trying leeks.

There will be another round of planting.

Another round of waiting.

Probably another battle with something that wants to eat my vegetables before I do.

And undoubtedly another round of surprises.

But that’s okay.

Because I’m beginning to realize that gardening isn’t really about controlling what happens.

It’s about creating the conditions for something to grow, nurturing it the best you can, and then paying attention to what happens next.

Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to it.

There is always another seed to plant.

Another lesson hiding beneath the soil.

Another season coming.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you end up standing at your dining-room table looking at a pile of food you grew yourself and thinking:

Look what this little garden gave me.

Gardening · Gardening

What My Garden Is Teaching Me About Patience

Every morning, before the day asks anything of me, I like to step outside with a cup of coffee and walk through my garden.

Some mornings there are exciting surprises—a new blossom, a tomato beginning to blush, or a pepper that seemed to appear overnight. Other mornings, everything looks exactly as it did the day before.

This week, my attention has been on my berry bushes. Instead of looking for fruit, I’ve been focusing on something much less exciting but far more important: the soil beneath them. I added compost, mulch, and nutrients to give them the best chance to thrive in the seasons ahead.

It reminded me that the healthiest gardens aren’t built by chasing quick harvests. They’re built by investing in strong roots.

Life works much the same way.

We often want immediate results. We want the promotion, the stronger body, the thriving friendships, the peaceful home, or the dream we’ve been working toward. But so much of life’s meaningful growth happens where no one can see it.

Roots are growing long before flowers bloom.

This season has reminded me that patience isn’t passive. It’s choosing to water what matters, even when the evidence of progress is still hidden beneath the surface.

One day those berry bushes will reward the care they’re receiving today. Until then, I’ll keep tending the soil.

Maybe that’s a lesson we can all carry with us.

Not every season is meant for harvesting.

Some seasons are meant for growing roots.

What are you nurturing today that may not bear fruit until tomorrow?

Recipes

Three Kids, Three Appetites, One Kitchen

One of the questions I get asked the most is, “How do you come up with so many different recipes?”

The truth is, I rarely have to look very far for inspiration. It lives right here in my home.

Cooking for my family is a little like running a restaurant with four very different customers—including the chef.

One child has an undeniable sweet tooth and would happily eat seafood whenever I put it on the menu. Another loves the comforting, familiar flavors of Sierra Leone—the foods that connect us to family, tradition, and home. Then there’s my youngest, who keeps me on my toes. What she’ll love one week might be completely off the table the next, so every meal feels like a new adventure.

And then there’s me.

I’m about 90% vegan. I rarely eat meat or dairy, though I do enjoy seafood from time to time. My own meals are centered around vegetables, beans, grains, herbs, and whatever is thriving in my little garden.

At first glance, it might sound exhausting to cook for so many different tastes. Some days, it certainly can be. But over the years, I’ve learned that meal planning isn’t about making four separate dinners. It’s about finding common ground.

A pot of rice can become the foundation for several meals. Roasted vegetables can be served alongside grilled seafood, tucked into a Sierra Leonean-inspired stew, or added to my own plant-based bowl. A homemade sauce can completely transform the same ingredients into something that feels entirely new.

Instead of asking, “What do I have to cook tonight?” I’ve started asking, “How can one meal make everyone feel cared for?”

That simple shift has changed the way I think about cooking.

It has also challenged me to become more creative in the kitchen. Some of my favorite recipes have been born from trying to satisfy four different appetites without spending the entire evening cooking.

Over the next few weeks, I’d love to share some of those family-inspired meals with you. I’ll show you how I adapt one recipe into several variations, how I keep meal prep manageable, and how my children continue to inspire nearly everything I create in the kitchen.

Because in this house, every recipe has a story.

Coming to the Blog

Here are a few recipes I’ll be sharing soon:

  • Garden Vegetable & Chickpea Rice Bowls (with optional grilled shrimp)
  • Sierra Leone–Inspired Groundnut Stew with plant-based and traditional variations
  • Homemade BBQ Jackfruit Sandwiches with my garden tomato barbecue sauce
  • Sweet Potato Leaf Stew (Plasas) made the way my family loves it
  • Healthy Banana Bread for the sweet tooth in our house
  • Easy “Build Your Own Bowl” meal prep that keeps everyone happy without cooking four separate dinners

What inspires your favorite family recipes? I’d love to hear the stories behind the meals that bring your family together.

Book Club

When a Book Stays With You: My Review of The Book Club for Troublesome Women

Every now and then, you finish a book and realize you’re not quite ready to leave its characters behind. Their stories linger in your thoughts, and you find yourself reflecting on them days after you’ve turned the final page.

That’s exactly how I felt after reading The Book Club for Troublesome Women.

Chosen as this month’s read for my ladies’ book club, this novel captured my attention from the very first chapter. More than a story about women gathering to read, it’s a heartfelt novel about friendship, courage, self-discovery, and the transformative power of finding your voice. It’s the kind of book that makes you pause, reflect, and appreciate the relationships that shape our lives.

Today, I’m sharing why this book earned a well-deserved five stars from me.

A Story That Resonated with Me

One of the things I loved most about this book was the way the author brought each woman to life. Their struggles, dreams, and relationships felt genuine, making it easy to become invested in their journeys. I found myself cheering them on as they challenged expectations, supported one another, and discovered strengths they didn’t always know they possessed.

While the novel is set in another time, the themes are timeless. We all long for meaningful friendships, the courage to be ourselves, and the freedom to pursue the life we envision. Those are the kinds of stories that stay with me long after I’ve finished reading.

More Than a Book Club

As someone who enjoys getting lost in a great book, I especially appreciated the way books served as a catalyst for connection throughout the story. It’s a wonderful reminder that reading is about so much more than turning pages. Books have a unique way of bringing people together, sparking conversations, and helping us see the world—and ourselves—from a different perspective.

That may be one of my favorite takeaways from this novel.

Why I Loved It

This book made me laugh, reflect, and appreciate the importance of having women in our lives who encourage us, challenge us, and remind us that we’re capable of more than we sometimes believe.

The writing was engaging, the pacing kept me interested, and I genuinely cared about what happened to the characters. By the final chapter, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

For me, that’s always the sign of a memorable book.

My Rating

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This was an easy five-star read for me. If you enjoy stories centered on friendship, personal growth, historical fiction, and the enduring power of books, I highly recommend adding The Book Club for Troublesome Women to your reading list.

Let’s Talk Books

Have you read The Book Club for Troublesome Women?

If so, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Did you have a favorite character? Was there a moment that especially resonated with you? Leave a comment below and let’s continue the conversation.

And if you haven’t read it yet, I hope you’ll consider adding it to your next book club—or simply your own “to be read” stack.

Happy Reading,

Lulu

Health & Fitness

Healing Isn’t Always About Recovery—Sometimes It’s About Discovery

For a long time, I thought healing meant getting back to who I was before the trauma.

I thought the goal was to recover the version of myself that existed before the disappointments, betrayals, losses, and difficult experiences that shaped my life.

But lately, I’ve been wondering if healing is something entirely different.

What if healing isn’t about returning to who we were?

What if healing is about discovering who we have been all along?

A few days ago, I had a realization while talking with my children. They helped me see something I had never fully understood.

I have spent years believing there was something wrong with me.

Years believing I wasn’t enough.

Years focusing on my flaws, mistakes, and shortcomings.

Yet the people who know me best saw something very different.

They saw beauty where I saw imperfections.

They saw strength where I saw weakness.

They saw resilience where I saw brokenness.

And it made me wonder how many of us are carrying stories about ourselves that are no longer true.

Trauma has a way of changing the lens through which we view our lives.

It can convince us that we are less capable than we really are.

Less lovable than we really are.

Less worthy than we really are.

The trauma happened.

The pain was real.

But the story we tell ourselves because of the trauma isn’t always accurate.

Healing has taught me that growth doesn’t always look dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like taking a walk when you’d rather stay in bed.

Sometimes it looks like going for a run even when your pace is slower than you’d like.

Sometimes it looks like planting a garden and trusting that something beautiful can grow from the soil.

Sometimes it looks like setting a boundary.

Sometimes it looks like asking for help.

And sometimes it looks like finally seeing yourself through kinder eyes.

The truth is that I am still healing.

I suspect I always will be.

But I no longer see healing as a process of fixing a broken person.

I see it as a process of uncovering the person who has been there all along beneath the fear, the pain, and the self-doubt.

That person is stronger than she realized.

More capable than she believed.

And perhaps even more beautiful than she allowed herself to see.

Maybe that’s what healing really is.

Not becoming someone new.

But finally meeting yourself.

As we recognize PTSD Awareness Month, I hope we can expand the conversation beyond symptoms and diagnoses. Trauma affects real people—people who are raising families, going to work, building gardens, pursuing dreams, and quietly carrying burdens that others may never see.

Healing is possible. Recovery is possible. And sometimes the most important discovery is realizing that you were never as broken as trauma led you to believe.

Reflection Question

Have you ever discovered that something you believed about yourself wasn’t actually true?

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Trauma has a way of changing the lens through which we view our lives.

PTSD is often misunderstood as something that only affects combat veterans, but trauma can result from many different experiences, including childhood adversity, domestic violence, neglect, medical trauma, accidents, or the loss of a loved one.

One of the most common trauma responses is hypervigilance—the feeling that you must constantly scan for danger even when you are safe. Another is the tendency to see yourself through the lens of survival rather than through the lens of your strengths.

Trauma changes the brain and the body. It can affect sleep, relationships, self-esteem, and even physical health. These responses are not signs of weakness. They are signs that your nervous system learned to protect you.

The good news is that healing is possible.

Healing may involve therapy, supportive relationships, movement, mindfulness practices, healthy boundaries, and learning to extend compassion toward yourself.

There is no “right” timeline for healing. Your pace is the right pace.

Book Club

Are We Each Our Own Universe? Why It’s So Hard to Be Fully Understood

There’s a thought that’s been sitting with me lately:

What if each human being is their own universe?

Not in a literal sense—but in the way we experience the world.

Each of us carries our own history, our own rules, our own way of making meaning out of what happens to us. No two people walk through life with the exact same lens. Even when we share space, share love, share experiences—we are still interpreting it all differently.

And maybe…that’s why it can feel so hard to be fully understood.


We Are All Living in Different “Worlds”

Think about it for a moment.

Everything you believe about yourself—your worth, your safety, your place in the world—was shaped over time. Through childhood. Through relationships. Through moments that stayed with you longer than you expected.

Those experiences didn’t just happen and disappear.

They became the rules of your inner world.

For some, the world feels safe and predictable.

For others, especially those carrying deep emotional wounds or experiences like Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the internal world may operate very differently—where trust feels risky, love feels uncertain, and safety doesn’t come easily.

Same world. Different realities.


Why Words Don’t Always Land the Way We Mean Them

We rely on language to connect, but language has limits.

You might say, “I feel hurt,” and mean something layered, deep, and rooted in years of experience.

Someone else might hear that and think of a passing moment—something small, something temporary.

The words are the same, but the meaning isn’t.

Because when we speak, we’re expressing something from our universe—and when someone listens, they’re interpreting it through theirs.


The Gap Between Being Heard and Being Understood

There’s a difference between someone hearing you and someone truly understanding you.

You can explain yourself clearly.
You can be open, vulnerable, and honest.

And still feel…missed.

Not because the other person doesn’t care—but because they don’t have the same internal reference points. They haven’t lived your exact experiences. They don’t carry your exact meanings.

And there are parts of you that simply cannot be translated perfectly into words.


So What Does Real Understanding Look Like?

Maybe it’s not about someone saying,
“I know exactly how you feel.”

Maybe it’s quieter than that.

Maybe it sounds like:
“I may not fully understand, but I’m here.”
“Help me see it the way you do.”
“I believe you.”

Real understanding isn’t perfect. It’s intentional.

It’s someone choosing to step closer to your world, even if they can’t fully live in it.


A Shift in Expectation

What if the goal isn’t to be completely understood?

What if the goal is to be seen—honestly, gently, and without dismissal?

To be understood enough that you don’t feel alone in your experience.

And to offer that same grace to others—recognizing that they, too, are navigating a world shaped by things we may never fully see.


Final Thought

If we are each our own universe, then connection isn’t about becoming the same.

It’s about learning how to visit each other’s worlds with care.

And maybe that’s where healing begins

Book Club

Book Club Reflection: Finding Perspective with The Midnight Library

A few years ago, in the middle of the pandemic, my family was carrying more stress than we knew how to name. Like so many households, our routines were disrupted, uncertainty felt constant, and my kids were overwhelmed in ways that showed up quietly — in moods, in questions, in exhaustion.

Around that time, a good friend recommended a book for our family book club: The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. We decided to read it together, not knowing just how much it would shift the way we were thinking about our lives.

If you want to check it out, here’s a link to the book:

👉 https://a.co/d/5bWxTcP

What stood out most wasn’t just the story itself, but the conversations it sparked in our home.

Reading It Together Changed How We Saw Our Lives

At its core, The Midnight Library invites readers to think about the many versions of life we imagine for ourselves — the what ifs, the roads not taken, the choices that could have led us somewhere else. During a time when everything felt heavy, that idea resonated deeply with all of us.

As a family, we talked about regret, disappointment, and the temptation to compare our current lives to imagined alternatives. We talked about how easy it is to get caught up in what could have been and miss the value of what is.

What the book helped us see — gently and without judgment — is that even the hardest parts of our lives still hold meaning. That the life we are living, imperfect and unfinished, deserves our attention and care.

A Lesson That Still Stays With Us

Years later, we still reference this book from time to time. When one of us feels stuck, frustrated, or overwhelmed, the reminder comes back:

Don’t forget to take in the life you have.

That doesn’t mean ignoring pain or pretending everything is fine. It means learning how to hold gratitude and struggle at the same time. It means appreciating growth, resilience, and connection — even when circumstances are far from ideal.

For my kids especially, this book offered language for feelings they didn’t yet have words for. It helped them understand that stress and uncertainty don’t mean failure — they’re part of being human.

Why I Still Recommend This Book

I recommend The Midnight Library not because it offers easy answers, but because it encourages thoughtful reflection. It opens the door to meaningful conversations — especially within families — about choice, perspective, and how we learn to make peace with the lives we’re living.

It was exactly the book we needed at that moment in time. And looking back, I’m grateful we read it together.

Sometimes the right book doesn’t change your circumstances — it changes how you see them. And that can make all the difference.

What are your favorite books? Why?

Book Club

Empowering Children Through Literature

I have always loved reading, my grandmother taught me to read before I started grade school. She was big on education and that is probably because she was not formally educated. She learned to read and write after she married my grandfather. She fell in love with learning and did her best to share that with me. I believe the first book I read was “My Book of Bible Stories”…this is a book published by the Jehovah’s Witnesses’ Organization. I was raised in the organization and was a practicing member up till about 2020. I left for personal reasons but I learned a lot about the importance of using critical thinking skills. My critical thinking skills were sharpen because of the books I was exposed to in my formative years.

One of the most formative books I read was “Their Eyes Were Watching God” By Zora Neale Hurston. The writing style was done in a conversational manner and it was raw in nature. Ms. Hurston use of colloquial dialect and standard English was unique and this was seen as controversial by some. The main character, Janine was strong and independent. She was not afraid to challenge the status quo. For a black woman in those days, this was considered a taboo.

I fell in love with this book in my senior year of high school. This also the book that led to me taking a break from writing regularly. My English teacher, assigned this book and we were also asked to complete an in class essay. I was her student teaching assistant that year. I took that role very seriously and I helped my peers who struggled with understanding some of the dialogue. I took pride in helping my peers while also working on my essay during class. It was one of my favorite experiences in high school. Everything changed when that same teacher accused me of cheating on the essay. She had asked me to be her teaching assistant. She accused me despite the essay being done in class. I never took it home with me. She reported me to the principal for cheating and was going to give me an F for the assignment. Thankfully, though my mom fought with me to get the grade I had earned.

The principal sided with me and my mom and I was given the grade I deserved. When asked why she believed I cheated. My English teacher noted that she did not believe I was smart enough. She doubted a girl like me understood the nuances of the material. Because I was an ESOL student, she did not believe I truly understood English. She assumed I must have copied my analysis from an outside source. That incident shock my confidence and for years I shied away from writing for fun. It took years of work on my self esteem for me to feel safe again as a writer.

I decided to share this. Educators must remember the type of influence they have on the students. This influence extends to both the classrooms and school hallways. I still love reading and I have passed the baton to my children. They all love reading and writing. We once had a family book club. It was a wonderful time for us as a family.

Reading is not only fun, it is a necessity that we must keep encouraging. Below, is a list of books I have read and shared with my kids.

Othello, Their Eyes Were Watching God, The Gift, Midnight Library, The Bible, The Stranger, The Contender. A Streetcar Named Desire, The Great Gatsby, and The Glass Menagerie.

The above list is simply a small sample of books I have read and enjoyed. I have a much longer list. My children are into fantasy books, historical fiction novels, and non-fictional novels. We love to have discussions about the themes of books we have read.