Brave Tutu Blog — Brave Tutu

Surreal Season

During the pandemic, I tend to begin messages this way— “I hope this email finds you well during this surreal season.” Whether it’s a work contact I’ve never met or someone I’ve known for years, I imagine saying so much more. Let’s face it, this one-sentence greeting barely scratches the surface of what may be happening off screen in their daily lives—of how the email really “finds” them. I want to reach through the ether and just give them a hug. I think about the words I wish to share…

Open Cupboards

MISSION: Find and eat the sugar cubes! As kids, we spent HOURS playing church hide and seek. We felt like finding sugar cubes was a simple extension of the game. Parish halls = coffee. Coffee = sugar. Simple math.

When we were really young, sugar cubes were still a thing and our dad was a visiting minister. We had many new territories to explore. We tested unlocked doors, snuck into nurseries and scoured cupboards. The entire campus was our playground.

Exes and COVID

The first social distance weekend of March, I got a call, not a text, from someone I dated in 2018. We weren’t serious, but we had a connection. He asked if he could take me out after all this was over.

COVID Connection

A man jogs towards me on the sidewalk and then goes into the street to give me six feet of space. I wave and smile. He does too. In that moment, there is a connection of care. In the necessary distance, I link with this stranger. It’s a total juxtaposition; we join through separation. Bizarre.

Handwritten by Guest Author Jacob Cramer

Every year, my grandma writes me and my brother Chanukah cards. They’re personalized, filled with love, and usually also filled with gelt: chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil when we were younger, and a small bit of money today. This Chanukah, her card was just what I needed as I stepped off of a rollercoaster of a semester.

Showing Up

I clip into my spin bike and look around the room. I spot the familiar faces and think, These guys are always here. They must come all the time. Way more than me.

Before I even start the workout, I beat myself up a bit. Why?

The music starts to speed up. I catch my rhythm and try to dismiss the thoughts.

Nightmares

Roaches. They haunt my first memories. In Lubbock, TX circa age two, my twin sister and I both woke up from bad dreams. We set out to seek comfort. Reaching our parents required a journey across the house.

We knew endless dark bugs waited for us.

“I don’t LIKE salad!”

The lobby of my YMCA was in full Saturday bustle. I chirped my entry card and veered to the right around the staircase. Parents herded their kids, trying to make an exit.

“I don’t LIKE salad!” I heard a toddler announce right before he almost ran into me.

I scooched out of his way and smiled. Honestly, it didn’t sound like he was throwing a fit. It was more an honest assertion.

I wanted to lean down and say, “I feel you buddy.”

STUCK

My little VW Beetle was parked close to a curb at a friend’s house. Their grassy lawn sat on the other side. As I opened the door to get in, the sharp lime-green corner stuck in the earth. As hard as I pulled, I couldn’t get it free.