sixty one years ago this earth was blessed with my old Earth. my mother was an incredibly beautiful, sharply aware, stronger than i can even know, and protected herself under an armor of prescriptives.
born in san juan, puerto rico. raised on the streets of spanish harlem. died in middletown ny. ashes - interned at arlington national cemetary in dc with my father (he's was military and a war vet) and a piece sitting a top my dresser near this photo (above). i thought i had to keep a piece of her, she couldn't rest in one place because, like me, no one could hold her down. she may have come off to strangers as quiet, subservient, a dutiful wife... but she was a women whose ideas and strength traveled.
her death certificate doesn't even say the right day because no one can pin you down. your story is still unwritten. it is remembered by many people in many different ways. i think about telling my version often but have enough conflict with blood i think. still i hold the memories and filmed moments. knowing i will speak on it all soon.
so today i remember. holly and phinny haircuts on the back porch. power walks through randall hikes. more than a decade of days of our lives - the time of the day when no questions, comments or needs would be addressed. sitting on the floor in the bathroom while you bathed. tuna caserole. dancing in the kitchn with the dogs. those 7 layers bars and sex in a bowl. the way you dressed. the way you laughed. the last movie we saw together - why do fools fall in love? the frankie lymon story.
i'm becoming just like you. i talk to tiana the way you talked to me. i cook one meal and we eat it for days. i won't buy unless it's on sale. i buy basics - clothes that can all mix and match. i need comfortable shoes. i need good friends to talk on the phone too. i laugh loud. i embarass my daughter in public. i dance with the cats. i sing stevie wonder loud and off-key. i love fully and completely. i have little patience but stand with a smile. i shrug off embarassment. i believe in myself.
thank you mom. i remember you today and always.