Fear of Kool-aid

So the other day, I made some really good Kool-aid.

I had been craving some for the past couple of weeks for some odd reason, and my mom finally brought some home.

So, I was extremely excited.

I got the big pitcher and big spoon, and was ready for action.

First I filled the pitcher with water.
Second, I added about 16 packets of kool-aid. Don't worry, it was the small single packets...I'm not that crazy.
Third, I sliced lemons and threw those in there too.
Fourth, I added about 3 half cups of sugar.
Fifth, I added ice.
Finally, I mixed it all together and was just yearning to taste it.

I know that Kool-aid may not seem that interesting to other people, but to me, this was much more than kool-aid.

The whole process of preparing it was a nostalgic experience that brought me back to times when my family felt complete.

Back at my old kitchen, with my sister, my mom, and my dad.

I don't know why, but getting the kool-aid to taste exactly the way it used to back in those days was extremely vital to me. It felt like a life or death situation, and if I didn't get it absolutely right, then some catastrophic event would occur.

So I picked up a plastic cup, poured a little of the drink in it, and waited to learn my fate.


It was good. It was really good.




But it wasn't the same...at all.

No, I didn't explode into oblivion and the world didn't end like I thought.

But something even worse happened.

My fear that things will never be the same again after my dad's death was confirmed.

Seriously? B.B. Rose?

B.B. Rose.

It actually stands for Beautiful Black Rose.

My father always told me that that was what my middle name meant.

My middle name is Akira...and I actually believe it's origins are Japanese and Akira actually means "bright as the sun" or something along those lines.

Either definition fits me perfectly, but I'll opt with my father's belief.

And now that he's gone, I've seemed to embrace his interpretation even more.

Beautiful...Black...Rose

I'm sure that's what I am.

Beautiful- No, not in the vain sense of the word. Yet beautiful in the way that my legs constitute most of my body. And that the gap in between my two front teeth reflect my father's exactly. And the scars and marks on my limbs each have a story.

Black- Yes, and very proud of that fact. I am the beginning and the end...Think about it. It's empowering.

Rose- Fragile, tender, and, in a way, fleeting.

I've never really sat down and thought about Akira before until now.

I guess my father really did know me better than I thought...