On Wednesdays, we go deep.

It was so great introducing Great Things Take Time to you this week and sharing the lighthearted side of things. If you haven’t already checked out Monday’s content, you can do so here.

From here on out, you can expect an email from me every Monday morning with a smorgasbord of good things, accessible to everyone who has subscribed. But on Wednesdays, we’ll go deep.

Wednesday’s content is my safe space. A way to share with you some of the more intense moments of my life that can’t be put into a few words on an Instagram caption. In all honesty, I spend time agonizing over how to share these things with the public. Some of this, I don’t readily share with everyone.

Typically, only the Great Things Collective will receive these emails, but this week I wanted to share with you a piece of a story that showcases why I chose this format to connect further with you. Short form can only do so much, but when I’m able to pour my heart into something, there is a different result. Of course, no matter how you engage with me, I’m truly grateful for you.

So much in life is fleeting. In the moment, it may feel like great triumphs and numbing failures will never end, but when we look back on them, they are a blip in our lives, like the split seconds during the day in which we experience a variety of emotions. People who feel like pillars in our lives will pass in and out of them as quickly as they came into them, teaching us lessons we could have never have learned on our own. 

Our lives are a product of these micro-moments. Sounds we never forget, smells that drop us into a place, smaller events that shape our lives, and the people who helped us learn about ourselves.

So much of who I am and the person that I have become is because of my grandmother. It only felt right to introduce her to you.

Meet Nana

Affectionately called Nana by us (my siblings, cousins, and myself), she was a wealth of wisdom and knowledge. Although whether it was all accurate and correct is another thing…

A majority of my childhood was spent at her home in The Bronx. With two working parents, she was more than my grandmother, she was a caretaker who was deeply involved in my upbringing. Nana was the one who kept her eye on us kids, constantly reminding you to  “wash your butt” and could tell if you hadn’t scrubbed everywhere with a washcloth. 

She taught me how to develop an appreciation for everything in my life, but with that came some tough lessons. While her building had a washer and dryer, we’d have to wash all our clothes by hand, hanging them up to dry on a line on the terrace of her New York apartment. The years of scrubbing my laundry on a washboard made it so I will never not appreciate a washing machine. She’d even make it so that when we were on a family vacation in North Carolina, we had to pick our own food. Returning back to New York meant a return to a luxurious and convenient life.

Now, if you’re reading this in air conditioning, I am happy for you and your temperature-regulated environment. If I was in your place 30 years ago, sitting in my grandmother’s apartment, I most certainly would be drenched in sweat, “cleansing myself”. While her 26th-floor apartment was equipped with an AC, it was reserved for special family events. We kids were left to appreciate the natural air, our daily visits did not merit chilled air. It could be 90 degrees outside and my grandmother would have the terrace doors wide open to let in the breeze. We’d foolishly think we had a chance at cooling down the apartment so we’d say,

“Nana, you have an AC right here, please turn on the AC. It is so hot in here.”

But whether my Southern grandma didn’t need it, wanted us to learn to appreciate the amenity, or was trying to save money and didn’t admit it, that AC never went on despite her fanning herself, dripping sweat. 

“Go in, drink some cold water and cool off, or eat some fruit” she’d tell us no matter how hot it got. “Sweating is your body's way of cleansing itself. The more you do it, the better.”

Okay, Nana. Okay.

I suppose that if that’s the case, I’ve gotten pretty cleansed over the years from my profuse sweating, a trait in the family she seems to have passed down to me. If you’ve worked out with me, then I’m sure you’ve seen my dampness or felt an unintentional sprinkle. Yikes.

Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness Nana-ness

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