Cocoa

I’ve been loving my brown lately. Not in some big dramatic way. Not like I woke up one morning and had this whole revelation waiting for me in the mirror. It’s been slower than that... More like something settling in my spirit that I didn’t even realize was shifting. I just look at myself sometimes and think… yeah. I like this. My skin. My hair. The way my brown moves through the world. And I can’t even fully explain where it started… Somewhere in the middle of watching Foxy Brown videos...

I’ve been thinking about trust the way some women think about linen in February. Technically… it’s too early. The forecast says wait. The groundhog saw his shadow. Six more weeks of winter. Keep the coat on. Keep the layers. Keep the insulation close to your skin. And yet. There’s something suffocating about wearing the thickest fabric when the sun is trying its hardest to peek through. Trust feels like that. Terrifying when I lean into it. Devastating when I avoid it. The act of trusting...

2026 didn’t arrive with urgency. It didn’t shake me awake or demand answers from me before I had time to stretch. It came in quietly, already in motion… already unfolding, like a song that’s been playing softly in the background before you realize you know the words. There was no dramatic shift, no moment that asked me to declare who I am now. Just the steady feeling that I’ve stepped into a new stretch of time, and I’m allowed to meet it without having everything figured out. The year so far...