Before I begin, I just want to remind him that I love him. I took the 21st as a moment to praise God and reflect... just to see what I came up with for this. I miss him and I thank God that I was able to live in the same lifetime as him as we both went through our experience. I was a little late to the party, in my opinion but, he came to my party right when I needed him and for that, I am eternally grateful. So, this is in dedication of my personal spiritual adviser. The one who understood that in order to be a king, you have to be a Prince first... and there's only one Prince. This is yet another piece of my heart and I dedicate it to you and only you.You made it to the dawn, honey.💜
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P.S. : Your most recent visit was well needed. Come again soon, babe. I always enjoy your company.
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1976 Minneapolis, Minnesota
She stands in the mirror for hours and hours. She turns to the left, she turns to the right. Regardless of the angle, something about her afro is not sitting well with herself. A twirl to the left brings out the looseness of her off the shoulder top. Pamela smiles at her self, absolutely proud of the outfit she's chosen. No longer the chubby girl in Ms. Carson's seventh grade class, it took her years regain confidence and to learn how to dress according to her brand new body type. Her eyes brighten at the pick that lies on the edge of her vanity. She takes it into her hand shoves it in what her guts would refer to as the perfect spot.
"Mhm, that's right."
Down the block, four houses over, in a basement is where two teenage boys pace around a single bedroom. One of a smaller stature, with the kind of fro that makes up for any misdirected attention, being named Prince. The slight twinkle in his doe eyes always proved that the name was the perfect match for him. Andre, his partner in crime and much taller companion, watches him throw the basketball into the air without a single hint that he was listening to anything he said.
"Prince, you listenin' man?"
Silence.
Andre scoffs, rising from the chair against the wall. "Jive motha–" He catches himself with the guttural feeling that the insult would be the only thing to catch Prince's attention. "C'mon, man, let's jet." Andre swipes the ball from Prince's possession and throws it in a nearby corner. Prince, still yet to have spoken, leaps from his bed. He picks out the back of his hair once more to make up for his position and placed the pick into his back pocket. The two jogged up the stairs and out the door. It is clear that Prince's mind in a daze but, when is it not? His mind relies in a dream world of its own, filled with sex, music, and happiness.
In the time of the best friends piling into Andre's older brother's car, Pamela's bike ride to the entrance of Minneapolis Central's campus. The oldest high school in the state is what it is, as well as the biggest with a whopping unidentified number of thousands of students roaming the campus everyday. The pile of students comes with a large sense of diversity that made the hippies of Minneapolis as proud as can be. The diversity is not nearly as well as places such as California or New York. Although it was pretty good in comparison to other cities in Minnesota. Multiple shades of brown mix in with multiple shades of white, or pink in some cases. In the moment of Pamela chaining her bike to the bike rack, Prince is found on the opposing end of the grass. His ride pulls into a parking spot within the moments of Pamela clasping her favorite lock around the rubber tube that keeps her bike attached to the metal bars. She pulls up, feeling the wind breeze through her detangled locks for the millionth time of the day. Pamela and Prince, who is freshly risen from the back seat, unknowingly mimic one another's motions. Both pat the sides of their afro, carefully assuring that the sculpture is as even as can be. Prince slides his bookbag as Pamela slings her own over her left shoulder. The two walk on the exact opposite sides of the sidewalk as she meets up with her friends and he meets with his.
