Part 1: Introduction

I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. She moves with careless wonder, luscious hair, shoulders back, murder on her mind. Some may call her the re-incarnate of Jesus Christ. But I, I call her Nighthawk.

I first met Nighthawk during a rendition of “Pontoon”.  A song that once tore my heart strings to pieces because, lesbehonest, who doesn’t want to float down a river on a huge barge? Anyway, she was singing, I was sitting in the corner holding a tambourine that I was supposed to shake but instead was so captivated by the beautiful melodic sounds happening that I forgot MY ONE JOB. (That and the fact that I am the person in the crowd who is ALWAYS clapping off beat because—unlike my old gangsta self—I have ZERO rhythm).

I later joined Nighthawk and her fellow musicians to only be greeted with: “You two look the exact same”. And thus began a friendship for the books.

**I am going to take a pause here and actually note that I am, in fact, a youth worker and Nighthawk is, in fact, my youth. Take that info and do with it what you will**

Nothing starts a blossoming bosom buddy relationship faster than similar clothing. Because, obviously, when two people look the same they have the same thoughts, the same personality, and, duh, the same interests. It’s science. Get over it.

So began one for the books. Nothing in hanging out with this fine, majestic creature of the night involves chilling. We are always on the move. Whether it be the fine blue tables of her current job establishment, or the careless and cleverness of her onsie, Nighthawk always walks on the wildside. Which gives me more than enough stories to share.

And thus commences the one and only series of: Adventures Of NIGHTHAWK (which I may add is, in fact, considered by Microsoft word a real word)