Sweat and Dysentery
I am still worried about my mother.
Last night I awoke in a state of dysentery and sweat! And there was no man around! I found myself wrapped up in my bed sheets like a taco from a Chipotle restaurant!!
Suppose I lose her, Possums. I know, I know, but I was always taught to fear the worst and expect it too!
Maybe, I am selfish, but who would I have to talk about?
Who would get me so mad, on purpose, in order to push me to the heights of glory that only a mother would know her child could reach? Who would be there to 
constantly ask me of that nice “light-skinned boy with pretty eyes” and why didn’t we work out? And although, for the 160th time I let her know that he was mean and ended up being a bore in bed, she still puts down any other riff raff that she sees on my arm.
Who would be there to get me to second guess my make-up, outfits, and choice of hair? Who would constantly remind me to perm my hair to make it look nice? Who would I chat back to that they should have slept with a white man, if she was so concerned with said nappiness. SIDE NOTE: Possums, my mother was the only person who agreed that if they had a problem with being called “nappy headed ho’s”, they should have gotten their coarse hair relaxed in the first place!
They say that your parents laid down the cornerstone of who you a
re as a person.
I remember my first talent show audition. My mother drove me to the school and practically shoved me on stage. Was it her dream or was it her dream for me? I would never know. All I remember is that, although I looked good, I sounded like Minnie Mouse. How did I know that I sounded like Minnie Mouse? Cause a man actually pulled her aside and said, “your daughter sounds like Minnie Mouse!”
Such memories, and now there may be no one to stand beside my pedestal and rock it back and forth a few times, only to push me off and help me get back up on it again.
Just to feel needed.
Yes, Possums, only my mother.
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