Multi-tasking Magic

Books are special. Hardcovers with striking images and pages filled with words that have the power to transport readers to another world--oh my. But since a few weeks ago, I've been walking around with the same twelve-hour audiobook in my ear, a different kind of special altogether.

When I met Bri in Angie Thomas's On the Come Up, on March 1, the trees were still stone-cold bare in my neighborhood, not a blossom to be seen. Bri was a spitfire with big dreams when her tale was interrupted by a frustrated mom and a stuck-in-his-way school resource officer, so I secured my scarf and buttoned my coat. By the time Bri was writing rhymes and gaining fame, I was toggling between violent wind and the power to unwind on a track that was gaining Bri major "likes". Later, when my dog and I jogged beneath the I-66 overpass, Bri's mother declared to her parents, "My greatest crime is that I'm poor!" Bri was making mistakes so fast, she could hardly make sense of what was left and right. This was a turning point, so I lengthened that day's walk to round two or three extra blocks. The scene was so tense, I had to unroll my sleeves. Knowing I was near the end, I chose my dog-walking route carefully.  Bri sought resolution with her mother, her music, and her mind, just as I rounded the corner and climbed the hill to my house.

Angie Thomas's novel has followed me all around Arlington this month. Over and under bridges, through sleet before sunshine, from a scarf pulled up over my nose, to the last chapter on March 30, I flip-flopped my way to the conclusion where every loose end was tied up with a magnolia blossom and a branch of leaves.