Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Have you met my mother?

Have I ever told you about my mom?



Growing up seemed so easy to me. I had a good life and my mama always made sure that I was happy.



She was a teenager mom, not exactly an easy thing to do. She was 15 when I made my world debut. 15 and poor. Very Poor. Our family consisted of my mama, my grandmother and my aunt... and then came me. My dad, 16 at the time, live 4 houses down with his mom and 6 siblings.



I can vaguely remember the house that we lived in and from what I can remember it was tiny and the furniture was broken down. I always called it the red house. I was this tiny little thing painted red. Now, it's a different color, but it will always be "the red house" to me.



Mama didn't let my birth hinder her in her studies too much. She went on and graduated high school and worked to keep food in my stomach.



My parents were married, I believe when she was about 19, after my dad was old enough to join the military, move from Michigan to Kansas, and shortly after had my brother. joy.



Already living a stressful life, my mama lost her mama right after that to diabetes. I simply can't imagine what it was like to be all of 19 with a family and suddenly have the love and guidance of your mother stolen from you. There was no one else. Her grandmother lived in Indiana and had nothing to do with us. Her sister was left in Michigan with a "play" aunt.

You see, my grandma, Granny, as I called her, was forced to leave her family. Banished, I guess. The way that I remember the story, My great-grandmother and grandfather were part Indian and part Irish. Their skin was as fair as any white person you might run into. Of course, back in those days, it wasn't cool to be black. Black people had it hard, struggled for everything. My great-grandparents were in that rare position to choose which side of the fence they wanted to be on.



Of course they chose the white side. Who wouldn't?



Granny, on the other hand, chose the road less traveled. She had her kids by black men. The first, she was force to give up for adoption. The girls she kept, but her mother disowned her, wanted nothing more to do with her.



(My sister graduated last year)

I wish that she was alive today because I would surely want to know more to that story.

From what I know, my mother, aunt and grandmother lived a hard life, moving around from place to place, trying to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. It's strange because my mother was ridiculed and taunted because of her light skin. She said kids would tease her and were just down right mean. I wish she had understood that they did this because they were jealous and not because her light skin made her ugly.

Even today I talk to her and she just doesn't see how beautiful she is. I mean, I'm jealous! That's how amazing she looks. AND LORD KNOWS I HAVE THE BIG HEAD! LOL!

When I was in high school, I had boys giving me their number TO GIVE TO MY MAMA!

Some signed my yearbook leaving shout outs to my mom.

There wasn't a day that went by that a horny little high school boy asked how my mom was doing.

And you know what? I think my boyfriends stuck around just to catch a glimpse at her!

And get this, after I graduated, one dude have the NERVE to write her a LOVE letter! Seriously! Trying to holla at my moms! Saying that he always had a crush but that he was all grown up now! Seriously??? A love letter to-my-MOM????




Gosh, do I love her. I mean, we have always been really close (until she up and got married again, moved to the TOP of the united states and found some else to talk to... but I ain't salty) and she always stuck by me no matter what. She taught me to be strong through the many sacrifices she made and the challenges she has conquered. And I hope that I am the same kind of mom for my kids as she was for me.

5 comments:

Ms. Bar B: said...

Beautiful. Isn't our history just so incredibly rich? I still remember my great-grandma telling me stories of how her grandmother had been sold into slavery when she was a girl, and separated from her many brothers and sisters. It just makes me so sad to dwell on those times and yet so proud to know that history. I too am from an Indian line. My dad's mother was creole. My aunt tells me that her grandfather was an Indian. Guess the blood line would explain my dad's long curly ponytail that I was always so envious of, lol.

I hope that both you and your mother had a wonderful mother's day.

Ms. Wanda said...

What a fabulous story:) Your mom is beautiful!!! We always keep our mothers inside of us, I know I keep mine!

Kristin said...

I thoroughly enjoyed hearing about your family. Your Mom is beautiful (and so are you!). That is amazing how she raised you, being such a young Mom. I had my first at 24 and I had no idea what I was doing even at that age. LOL!

Hope you had a great Mother's Day!

African American Mom said...

What great post and tribute to your family. Your mom is beautiful! Sounds like a true warrior.

Amy said...

She is really beautiful!!