With a life dedicated to being a voice behind the sports world, journalist Sarai Nazaire worked her way through the ranks to become one of the youngest and most sought after faces for sports television. Her will and honor to not only be accurate in...
"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." ― Kahlil Gibran
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In the luminous sunlight that has been casting over my body for the past two hours or so, my skin has basked in the warmth and potential glow that I've been hoping for over the past couple of weeks. The trees have been on either side of me cheerfully moving around like dancing women, with a few occasional vivid sap green leaves dazzling along the concrete trail by the way of the faintly blowing winds. They are the life of this scenic late spring morning and my entertainment as I take inhales of the late morning dew and the various shades of green around me.
With only a half mile left, I intentionally slowed down the pace of my jog in a manner to further draw it out as I didn't want it to end. I don't know how I've gotten from Big Sean to a Musiq essentials playlist, but I have no complaints because I'm obsessed with his first three albums and I never hesitate to turn them on during a day filled with cleaning and reorganizing. Typically, during a run, I'll gravitate towards up tempo music to counterpart the momentum of my adrenaline, but today, I don't mind the mellow vibes. I haven't minded it for days now, actually.
Prospect Park lacked the normal flood of human traffic that it often has as the week transitions beyond that middle mark and I've been able to avoid it, even then, by coming out when most are hustling and bustling at work while their children are in school.
It has been quite some time since I've indulged in my high school talents, but I've needed both physical and mental rejuvenation while also using the time to work off the eight pounds that I've gained in my thighs and backside over some months. I've lost three of the pounds thus far.
I've been restless or rather sleepless. A possible three to four hours of slumber is all my body has been allowing itself to receive; sometimes less than that depending upon how long my mind is racing. Just before midnight, I deliberately close the blinds and cover the entirety of the windows with the blackened curtains I bought to aid my current issue, but despite the darkness that overwhelms the room, there is still just a very slight gap that allows the faintest glimmer to trickle onto the egg shell toned walls.
That hazy light is what my eyes focuses on as I attempt to count each car passing by. The once carefully made bed turns into nothing more than a mess of tangled sheets and covers, as I move from side to side. Despite my strained resistance, my body then craves for a presence that will never be there no matter how many times I close my eyes tightly and suddenly pop them back open with the hope of a fairy God mother suddenly appearing to change my reality back to the way it once was.
On my nightstand is a bottle of Valium and another bottled filled with thirty caplets of medication for migraine headaches. Despite the ten-minute debate with my primary care provider about my lack of need for either prescriptions, he insisted I have them anyway just in case my chosen natural remedies in chamomile and lavender tea and all-natural melatonin gummies doesn't cooperate with my body. Since then, said remedies have failed me repeatedly, but I refuse to pump my body with a controlled substance for anxiety, muscle spasms, and seizures.
