Something awakened in me this past week.

Not gradually. Not quietly. It arrived with the force of a memory I had forgotten I needed.

It showed up in the loud streets of New York City as thousands of people celebrated a championship decades in the making. It showed up in the reflection and meaning of Juneteenth. It showed up as I sat watching the inauguration of the Obama Presidential Center, feeling emotions I had not felt in years.

And it showed up in me.

For days, I have been trying to find the words to describe what happened.

The closest I can come is this: a dormant part of me woke up.

A part of me that has always felt called to advocacy. That has always believed in community. That has always used her voice to help others.

A part of me that has always stood for human dignity, human rights, justice, and the belief that we are better when we move together rather than apart.

I didn't realize how quiet that part of me had become until I felt it return. And then a difficult question surfaced:

How many parts of ourselves go dormant while we're busy becoming who life calls us to be?

Watching New York celebrate the championship was more than watching a team win.

It was watching hope, unity, and people from every walk of life come together around something joyful.

For fifty-three years, generations had waited for that moment. And suddenly the city was alive.

People were singing, dancing, cheering, talking to strangers, sharing space, sharing belief, sharing joy.

Everywhere I looked, I saw community.

And one not united by fear, anger, or division.

I saw community united by joy and possibility.

I found myself glued to the television wishing I was home in New York to experience it firsthand.

My stomach tightened. My heart raced. I wanted to jump up- I wanted to celebrate with them! I wanted to be part of it. To feel it and share in that collective feeling.

What struck me most wasn't the victory itself, but what the victory represented.

People still want to rally around joy. People still want hope. 

Then came Juneteenth.

What I have come to appreciate about Juneteenth is that it is not simply a holiday, but a reflection. A reminder. A reckoning.

A celebration of freedom delayed but never denied.

It tells the story of people who waited two years to learn they were free. It tells the story of resilience, advocacy, and community. Juneteenth became a federal holiday in 2021 because people believed that history mattered.

Because people used their voices and took action. It reminds us that progress happens because people organize, mobilize, speak, and refuse to remain silent.

To me, that is the power of community.

Shared values. Shared vision. Shared truth. Shared responsibility.

As I sat at home on Juneteenth, looking through the windows into my backyard, I found myself reflecting.

Really reflecting.

I looked at my pool and realized how long it had been since I had simply enjoyed it. I looked at the trees and plants and noticed they needed attention- nourishment and care. 

And in that moment I realized something else. So did I.

Parts of my life had been waiting for me to return. Parts of myself had been waiting for me to return. 

Then I watched the inauguration events surrounding the Obama Presidential Center.

And suddenly I was transported back to 2007- 2008. Back to a season when hope felt tangible.

Back to a season in my life when I was actively engaged.

Writing.

Speaking.

Advocating.

Mobilizing.

Believing.

As I listened to the speeches and watched leaders, artists, community builders, and everyday people gather around a shared vision, tears filled my eyes because I was reminded that possibility still exists.

That where we are today is not where we must remain.

That positive change is still possible. In our communities. In our families. In our businesses. In our country.

In ourselves.

The future is not something that simply happens to us. It is something we help create. And that realization brought me to an even deeper reflection.

For the past several years, I have been living through a profound season of transition.

I became an empty nester.

I experienced the illness and death of my father.

I watched my mother enter a new stage of life and I stepped into the role of her caregiver.

At the same time, my husband and I made the decision to build Afuri Aesthetics & Wellness.

To build something new. To create something meaningful. A vision that felt bigger than us.

There have been days filled with excitement and there have been days filled with grief. There have been sleepless nights. Moments of uncertainty.

Moments when I questioned who I was becoming.

Because the truth is, when your children leave home, when you lose a parent, when your responsibilities and priorities shift, a version of you shifts too.

You begin asking different questions.

You begin seeing yourself differently.

You begin confronting what remains when the roles that once defined you begin to change.

For a long time, my primary focus was raising my daughters and making sure they became educated, compassionate, capable women. That responsibility mattered deeply to me.

Then caregiving entered my life and I discovered a different dimension of love, service, and purpose.

What surprised me most was realizing that the skills I developed through motherhood became the very skills I needed as a caregiver- and an entrepreneur.

Every lesson.

Every challenge.

Every sacrifice.

Every season.

It was all preparing me for this season of life- and this version of me.

Through building Afuri Aesthetics & Wellness, I began to see more clearly not only what I was bringing to the world, but why.

I realized that the things that sustained me through each season were remarkably simple: restoration, wellness, faith, reflection, community, and stillness. 

And these were the very things I felt called to share. That is why Afuri Aesthetics and Wellness exists.

It’s more than my business; it’s an expression of me and the things that helped me navigate each transformative season of my life- seasons we all experience in our own ways.

I am bringing to the world the things that kept me grounded, moving forward, and most importantly, trusting- even through uncertainty.

Lately, I’ve learned deeper the power of trust.

I’ve stopped saying I am doing things despite fear. I now say I am doing things “in trust”.

Trust in God.

Trust in purpose.

Trust in the process.

And perhaps most importantly, trust in myself.

Because I do not believe we find purpose. I believe we connect with purpose. Purpose has always been there. We are born with it. But throughout our lives, we reconnect with different dimensions of it.

And what I realized this week is that another dimension of my purpose has been calling me.

My voice.

My advocacy.

My willingness to stand for something.

My commitment to community.

My belief that we all have a responsibility to contribute. Not someday- now.

This part of me has been dormant. What parts of you have been dormant while you were busy becoming who life called you to be?

Let me leave you with this.

If there is something stirring inside of you, pay attention.

If there is a dream you keep revisiting, pay attention.

If there is a cause you care about, pay attention.

If there is a voice inside of you asking for more, pay attention.

Don’t dismiss it, silence it, or wait… for the right time, for permission, until you’re “ready”.

The world does not change because a few extraordinary people decide to act. It changes because ordinary people decide they will no longer remain on the sidelines.

We need your gifts.

We need your ideas.

We need your courage.

We need your voice.

What will you bring to this world? How will you serve? 

The feeling I am carrying today is one of hope, possibility, ignition.

A deep knowing that regardless of the clouds before us, we can move forward.

We can build, heal, serve, change. And we can do it together.

The dormant parts of us are not gone.

They are simply waiting for us to wake up, reconnect, and remember who we are. So, if you need a sign, let this be it.

Wake up.

Step forward.

Do the thing.

Use your voice.

Trust your purpose.

And get to work. The future is waiting for all of us.