Black-Owned Restaurant #19: Essence
I hadn't realized I was standing across the street from Essence because I was too busy following my iPhone’s directions and Siri told me to keep walking. I stopped for a moment, looked around and saw a taxi place called “Apple” something and realized that wasn't the restaurant. I then glanced at Essence, but because I couldn't make out the words and the building looked weird, I looked passed it not knowing it was the restaurant. My hands began to numb so I decided to walk. As I walked around, the area started to look more familiar, and moments later I realized I was standing in front of the first high school I attended in Brooklyn: The Paul Robeson High School. I stopped and stared at my old school we once called “Robe” and memories began to run through my mind. I remembered a young boy running through the halls with his pants down, chasing girls, and flunking classes; I remembered a young teenager that connected with his teachers and security guards because they told him they saw something special in him; I remembered a young man that decided in order to start on a new path, he would have to leave “Robe” and start fresh at a new high school. Lost in my thoughts, I continued walking. Several footsteps later, I looked up and realized I was on St. Marks and Kingston Avenue. I had walked to where I once lived with biological family before "officially" returning to foster care at age 13. I thought about my older cousin who took me in when I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I thought about her oldest son, Day-Day who I grew very close to while I lived there eight years ago. Memories of him and me running around getting into trouble and enjoying our young lives began to surface. I then remembered the two different paths we ended up choosing, and if I would have been with him that day, I would not have my freedom. I could feel my eyes swelling so I continued to walk. As I walked down Kingston Avenue, I smiled when I saw certain things that reminded me of my youth with my cousin. All I could think about was how proud he would be of his cousin, Tercheron. My stomach ached, so I googled the address to Essence and realized I had initially put in the wrong address.
While eating my meal I thought about the day I would see my cousin Day-Day again and tell him all about my life and my November’s Journey.
Thank you, Essence Bar, for being a part of my journey.
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