Trash Bags

One night before bed, Ms. Brown came into the girls room with a large black trash bag. We looked around to see who was leaving. You have to understand, being a foster kid at Ms. Brown’s isn’t perfect, but it’s almost as close you can find in Chicago. The hope is to stay here until it’s time to go home.

Pocketed Change

After two weeks with Ms. Brown, I was informed that a social worker was picking me up in the morning, so I pack my bag.  Packing my bags was basically a black trash bag stuffed with the clothes I had received over the last two weeks, my tooth brush and a brush that a neighbor…

Spare Change

I started by putting on the clothes from the previous day.  And tried to brush my hair back into a braid with my fingers being my only grooming tool. Once fully dressed and somewhat presentable, I emerged from the room hoping to see a bathroom before anyone saw me.  No such luck.  

Fire!

Nights in the apartment produced voices that only my mother heard. She would fight against the voices with prayer and reading the Bible. She would sit us in a circle and read to us from the Bible. If our young eyes got heavy, we would be awaken by yells or a hit upside the head. Some nights my mother had to compete with our neighbor who would play Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust. I never recall meeting this neighbor, but my young impression was he was crazy. I was becoming fully exposed and recognized crazy.

M&Ms Part II

Riding on the train from New York to Chicago was pretty uneventful. My mother sat quietly for the majority of the way, I honestly think I was getting on her nerves with all my questions. When she would talk, she would mention the M&Ms and how she couldn’t wait to share them with me. Chicago…

Price of Telling Your Story

I am blocked. It’s not a true writer’s block, more like I might not be ready to deal with the aftermath kinda block. The first eight years, I was able to romanticize the abandonment I felt as a result of both parents not being in my life. I skipped through the sexual molestation I experienced…

M&Ms

There was as a buzz of excitement in my world, my mother was traveling from Chicago to pick me up so I can go to stay with her and my little sister in Chicago (apparently I have a little brother too, but I never met him). Grams had managed to find my a full luggage…

Doll House

So all year the focus was on miniature furniture. There was an antique sewing machine, a mahogany dining table with chairs, a four poster bed and a kitchen table. I then watched Grams make table clothes, small bath towels with tiny pink flowers and linens. I watched the collection grow bigger every month. She would polish every piece and place them in shoeboxes. I was always impressed with the details put into every item. I wonder what type of person had that much patience and creativity to be able to create every item. I was convinced at one point that there was a factory of little elves making warehouse filled with manicure furniture.

I Use to Love H.E.R

I said a hip hop Hippie to the hippie The hip, hip a hop, and you don’t stop, a rock it out Bubba to the bang bang boogie, boobie to the boogie To the rhythm of the boogie the beat With that, I was hooked. I didn’t understand what it was, all I know that…