Track 02: Red Light, Green Light
Welcome to In Rotation: The Love Series presented by Honey Blossom Press.
This one’s for the ones who never forgot the way summer used to feel. When the ice cream truck turned the corner, when the porch light flicked on, when someone yelled "Red light!" and you kept running anyway.
Sometimes love circles back, not because it has to, but because it wants to. Because the block remembers. Because the kiss was never really over.
Red Light, Green Light is about homecoming, both to a place and to a feeling. It’s about finding someone who knew you before you ever had to explain yourself. And maybe… just maybe… deciding to keep going this time.
Side A: Press Play & Listen
Side B: Curl Up & Read
Track 02: Red Light, Green Light
It had been thirteen summers since I’d last stood on this block, and nothing had really changed. Not the slanted porch on the corner. Not the cracked sidewalk where we used to race barefoot until our heels turned black. Not even the way the air smelled—hot grass, BBQ smoke, and someone blasting Frankie Beverly like it was city ordinance.
I came back because my grandma had a fall. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to make my mom nervous. She said I could just visit for the weekend. I said I’d stay through July.
By the third day, I was out on her front steps, sweating through a tank top and watching the neighborhood stretch into memory.
That’s when I saw him.
Tariq.
Watering the lawn next door like it was just another Thursday. Same build, taller now. Bearded. A little broader in the shoulders. His locs were longer too, pulled back in a loose bun.
He turned like he felt me staring. Smiled.
“Well damn,” he said. “You really back?”
We’d grown up playing every summer game you can imagine—Red Light, Green Light in the middle of the street, Mother May I on Miss Laverne’s lawn, tag that always got too serious, and water hose fights that turned into full-blown wars.
He was two years older, always the line leader, always the one yelling “Red light!” with too much authority. I was the one who kept running anyway.
“You still don’t listen,” he used to tease me.
“You still talk too much,” I’d shoot back.
We were inseparable for three summers straight. Then I stopped coming. High school got intense. My grandma started visiting us more. Life moved.
But seeing him now, standing in that same yard, water dribbling onto the grass, felt like I’d walked back into a scene I’d only half remembered.
We talked that first day. Just a little.
Caught up over the fence like neighbors in a sitcom. He told me he worked at the rec center and coached the summer basketball league. I told him I lived in D.C. now, running youth programs.
“Still got the energy for kids, huh?” he said.
“Still got the patience for them?” I asked.
He grinned. “I got patience for some.”
That weekend, I caught him in the driveway washing his car. Shirt off. Sweat glistening. I waved like it didn’t faze me. It did.
“You always this early?” I called out.
“Only when I know the sun’s gonna cook later.”
I leaned against the fence. “You still call this hot?”
“You been gone too long,” he said. “This ain’t even the real heat yet.”
We talked for almost an hour. About how the block had changed. Who still lived where. How Miss Laverne finally moved to Florida. How the corner store turned into a juice bar for a year and flopped.
It was easy. Too easy.
One evening, after a thunderstorm, we sat on my grandma’s porch eating Blue Bell and watching the lightning bugs return. The air was sticky. The sky bruised at the edges.
“You remember how we used to act like the water hose was a firetruck?” I asked.
He laughed. “You mean how you used to make us line up so you could yell orders?”
“You loved it.”
“I tolerated it.”
We fell quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “You remember that last summer? Before you stopped coming?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You kissed me.”
“You kissed me,” I said.
He smirked. “You ran after.”
“You turned your back before I could say anything.”
We looked at each other.
“I was twelve,” I said.
“I was fourteen. Scared as hell.”
“I was scared too.”
He shook his head. “And now?”
I didn’t answer. I just scooped another spoonful of ice cream.
The next afternoon, he came by with a watermelon—already cut, chilled, and packed in a foil-covered Tupperware.
“You really trying to make a point,” I said.
“I’m just being neighborly.”
We ate it on the porch steps, legs stretched, juice dripping down our wrists.
“You ever miss it?” he asked.
“Como?”
“Yeah. This pace. These people. Knowing who lives two houses down and who’s gonna light fireworks two weeks early.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes. I miss the version of me that lived here.”
He looked at me. “She’s not gone. She’s just been waiting.”
That Sunday, the kids on the block started a game of Red Light, Green Light. I don’t know what made them do it. Maybe one of their parents told them how we used to play. Maybe the spirit of the block just brought it back.
Tariq and I stood on the sidewalk, watching them yell and laugh and cheat the way we used to.
“You wanna jump in?” he asked.
I smiled. “Only if I get to lead.”
He bowed. “Be my guest.”
I stepped into the middle of the street.
“Green light!” I called.
They ran.
“Red light!”
They stopped. Most of them.
Tariq was still at the curb, arms folded.
“Scared?” I teased.
He smirked. “Just waiting for the right signal.”
That night, he walked me home from the corner. No reason. Just did.
When we reached the porch, he paused.
“You heading back soon?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
He nodded slowly. “I never really got over that kiss.”
I looked at him, heat rising in my chest.
“Neither did I.”
He stepped closer. “So... green light?”
I didn’t answer.
I kissed him instead.
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This one’s for the ones who never stopped wondering what might’ve happened if you’d stayed. For front porch pauses, old games played new, and the slow recognition of something still glowing under all that time.
Filed under: block party crushes, neighborhood return trips, and kisses you never really got over.
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Spread My Wings – Troop
Iesha – Another Bad Creation
I Love Your Smile – Shanice
Can We Talk – Tevin Campbell
Dial My Heart – The Boys
Kissing Game – Hi-Five
Don’t Take It Personal (Just One of Dem Days) – Monica
Just Friends (Sunny) – Musiq Soulchild
Just Kickin’ It – Xscape
Close to You – Maxi Priest
You’re Makin’ Me High – Toni Braxton
Sittin’ Up in My Room – Brandy
Turned Away – Chuckii Booker
Hey Mr. D.J. – Zhane
Tell Me – Groove Theory
Every Little Thing I Do – Soul for Real
Weak – SWV
I’m Dreamin’ – Christopher Williams
If It Isn’t Love – New Edition
What About Your Friends – TLC
I Wanna Love Like That – Tony Thompson
Roni – Bobby Brown -
Watch: The Wood (1999)
This one’s a summertime staple. The Wood captures the magic of growing up, the pull of home, and the kind of childhood love that stays with you. Like Red Light, Green Light, it’s about memory, neighborhood bonds, and the way a single kiss can echo years later. It’s funny, nostalgic, and full of heart—with just enough romance to make you root for a second chance.
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Every track in In Rotation comes with a moment that’s yours to keep.
This week, take a step back into something that made you smile once—an old hobby, a favorite snack, a memory that still feels good. Open a window. Let the playlist play. Let yourself remember who you were before the world got loud.
Because sometimes, self-love looks like returning to the parts of you that waited patiently to be picked again.
You're always worth the second chance.
Thanks for being here. Your seat’s saved for the next one.
With love and softness,
Your fam at Honey Blossom Press
© 2025 Honey Blossom Press. All rights reserved.
