We Remember πŸ–€πŸ’™

Trayvon Martin

Today I sat, blinking away tears behind my masked face as I received a manicure. I only watch TV while I am at the nail salon since I turned it off at home 6 years or so ago. On the seemingly permanent fixture of the news channel there, I watched images of war and a supreme court nomination.

I also saw that tomorrow marks 10 years after a fateful day where many, many lives were changed.

There was no anticipation of an abrupt end. So I honor what I hope was a normal and peaceful last day for young Trayvon Martin and his family and loved ones. On TV they showed a small memorial in Sanford, FL, about 2 hours from me. As I looked away to try and compose the impending waterworks, I saw the non-reactions of everyone else in the room.


The last time I was here a woman was openly vocal about her dislike for a local politician to anyone that would listen. The last time I left here, a man wore a t-shirt indicating he could “shit out a better president.” It made me curious what’s in his current diet, but I digress. Today was a day where, from my observation, I was in a room of people tuned into whatever else they were tuned into.

“Energy flows where attention goes,” I suppose.

Throughout our days we get to build our legacies, polish our characters, and establish what we are remembered for. Although he made headlines after tragedy, I hope he is still remembered fondly and lives on through those that knew him.

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