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I WANT MY MAMA!

Even when I was with her, it never felt quite natural to call her Mama. I always just tried to phrase sentences so I did not have to call her anything in particular. It seem to make talking easier. Some conversations made me feel loved and some just hurt my heart afresh. I remember what I felt when she said she was at the hospital when I was really sick with pneumonia as an infant. I listened with skepticism, and then realized that she was indeed really there. She had been part of my life in the ways she thought was best. She was there after all.

Having grown up in an era where children were to be seen and not heard, there were questions I only asked myself. When visiting other family members, I would sometimes stare at them, trying to find some resemblance to myself. I would look at their eyes, hands, strides, and even skin. I would look at their hair and teeth. I would take note of the dimples both in their chins and cheeks. Sometimes I would find a trait or two to claim. I had tight almond shaped eyes just like my brother Tyron. I had thick dark nappy hair just like my other girl cousins. However, I could not get past what dentists would later refer to as my world class diastema. My gap. It was wide and you could not miss it. I used to stick straws in between my teeth when I was bored. All of these quiet questions came alive as the tale unfolded.