GRANDMA MAY PICKS DAISIES

GRANDMA MAY PICKS DAISIES

Pillows are flying across the room. A sea of clothing covers the floor. Screams and howls are shooting through the house.

“I hate you.” she yelled while tears streamed down her face. Her face was buried inside of her hands while her body shakes uncontrollably.

“I’m so sorry.” an officer said trying to reassure her that everything was going to be alright. “I know that this is hard to handle, but your grandparent is going to take care of you now. Your parents are in a better place.”

“A better place?” she questioned. “A better place you say. They promised they’d return safely home to me, and now they are gone forever. I have no one.”

The officer buries his face, and walks away. The little girl sits on her bed crying with no one to consul her.

#

The morning’s sun was shinning brightly over the world. The air was crisp, and biting. Winter was creeping upon the city, and change lingered on its frost. Leaves were lying dead and defeated on the browning grass, and chirping birds were no where to be heard. It was a brand new day. Smoke was dancing up from the red brick houses chimney. The door was a chipped white, with a wreath placed directly in the middle. Around the roof the lights vibrantly shined showing the small city its glory, and placed in the window was a sign that said Merry Christmas for all to read. The season of joy was present in the city, but not in this brick house. This place was not familiar to this little girl. It didn’t have the sweet smell of pumpkin spice bread cooking in the kitchen, and the sounds of her mother singing Christmas songs while folding bed sheets in the laundry room. This house didn’t have the same happiness that it had when her father would burst through the door, and lift her up into the air and hug her tightly. He would kiss her gently on her cheek and say “I love you Daisy, you will always be my little girl.” Then he would place her down and run toward the love of his life and kiss her passionately on the lips. The little girl would just sit back and watch. She was happy there, but this red brick house to her was everything opposite. It smelled like rotting flesh just got up and was walking all around the house. From room to room it left its aroma for all to smell. In the kitchen there were plums, and prunes placed inside a cracked glass bowl. There wasn’t any kind of cakes, or muffins baking for her to inhale. She knew that she was going to be miserable here.

“Daisy, would you like anything to drink?” she asked.

“No I don’t want anything Grandma May.” Daisy snapped back.

“Well, are you sure sweetie?” she asked again. “I know that you’ve had a long day, and I’m sure that you are very hungry. I could make you a tuna fish sandwich with some animal crackers, and a warm glass of mi-“

“I said I don’t want anything.” Daisy shouted back. “My mom used to make me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She wouldn’t make me that disgusting tuna crap. I hate tuna.”

“I can make you a PB&J then.”

“I said she makes me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, not a stupid PB&J. I hate this place.” Daisy screamed while she ran to her bedroom, and throws herself onto the floor. She began to kick her legs into the air, and pounded her legs and arms deep into the floor. There were loud bangs that rumbled the house. Grandma May didn’t know what to do. She was not used to this kind of event since her children have been out of the house for years. Grandma May walked toward Daisy’s bedroom door.

“Honey.” she pleaded, “please stop doing that. I know how upset you are but you really need to stop.”

“Leave me alone. I don’t need anything from you. I want my momma.

“I know sweetie. We all love, and miss your mom.”

“You didn’t love her. You couldn’t have. I loved her. I loved her.”

Daisy still proceeds to pound on the floor, but now she was screaming at the top of her lungs, and crying.

“I know that I wasn’t around as much as I needed to be, but your mother didn’t want to really see me much.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think that you would understand.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“I know your not.” Grandma May took a deep breath hoping that her next move would work. “why don’t you stop pounding on the floor like a big girl, and come out of the room. I can make you some macaroni and chee-, I mean, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, and I’ll tell you stories about when your mother was a little girl.” All the sudden the pounding stopped. The scream disincarnated into the air. Grandma May was shocked at the sudden silence that shot through the whole house. Grandma May slowly leaned her ear toward the door to hear what was going on, and then the door began to creep open. Grandma May quickly jolted back away from the door, and there stood this little girl with honey brown hair with deep green eyes that sparkle as bright as the star on top of a Christmas tree. She was wearing a gray skirt with long white socks that came up to her knees. Her top was a white button up collar shirt, and it was tucked into her skirt. She had a red bow that pulled her hair out of her face, and tears were running down her cheeks. Grandma May reached her hand out, and with the gentle touch of her finger she wiped Daisy’s tears away.

“Can I still have animal crackers with my sandwich?” Daisy asked with a little whimper.

“Of course.” Grandma May said while taking hold of her hand, and they both walked to the kitchen.

“Do you like the crust, or did your mom cut it off?” Grandma May asked.

“I like when she would cut off the crust.” Daisy replied.

“That’s how your mom liked it too.” Grandma May said with a little laugh. “she was full of so much energy, and excitement. You remind me of her.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look just like her when she was a little girl.” Daisy’s eyes widened, and her face lit up. A smile from ear to ear spread across her face.

“Really?”

“Yes you do. It’s an exact match. The only difference is that she had light blonde hair, and you have brown hair.”

“When I was a baby I had blonde hair. But momma said that my hair started to go darker the older I got. Now I have daddy’s brown hair. I miss them.”

“I know you do sweet heart, so do I.”

“Why didn’t you ever come around?”

“Honey, it’s a long story that I don’t really want to go into. Plus, you’re probably too young to understand.”

“Hey, you said that you would tell me why, and stories about my momma.”

“I’ll tell you stories about her, but I won’t tell you why I didn’t come around.”

“Fine, if you won’t keep your part of the deal then I will go back into the bedroom, and start to pound and yell again. But this time it will be worse. The whole neighborhood will hear it.” When Grandma May heard this she finally broke.

“Alright, alright I’ll tell you. Goodness you certainly know how to strike a bargain.”

“I learned it from daddy.” Daisy said with a little smirk on her face.

“Well, your father was a great lawyer. You have his eyes.”

“Hey, I know you’re trying to change the subject”

“Once again you caught me. Alright well, your mother and I were very close. But she was not supposed to have you.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Daisy asked. She was very confused about what her grandma said. Grandma May took another very big breath, and braced herself for what she was going to say. She handed Daisy her sandwich, and animal crackers.

“Did she ever tell you that she had diabetes?”

“No, what’s diabebees?” Grandma May began to laugh.

“No, no it’s called di-a-be-tes. It’s when your blood sugar is lower than normal people, and she had to give herself injections for her health.”

“Oh, I remember when she had to do that, and I asked her what it was, but she always would ignore the question. What does that have to do with me?”

“Since your momma had really bad diabetes it wasn’t healthy for her to have a baby. The doctors suggested to her, and your father to adopt if they wanted to have a family. I warned her that having a baby of her own is not a good idea, and agreed with the doctor. I began to research for her about different adoption agencies, but she didn’t listen to me. She got pregnant with you, and got very sick.

“She got sick?”

“Yes, she almost lost her life and yours too. So the doctors and I suggested that she should give you up.” Grandma May realized what she just said.

“What does give you up mean?” Daisy asked while eating her sandwich. Grandma May had to think of something really quick and smart so Daisy wouldn’t proceed to ask her about what she meant by ‘give you up.’

“It’s something that you won’t understand, and even if I explain it to you, you’d probably not understand what I’m talking about in the first place. You better eat the other half of your sandwich.”

“Ok.” Daisy said while taking a big bite of the other half of her sandwich. Grandma May sighs of relief.

“Anyway, she refused to give you up, and had you. You were beautiful when you were born. With those big beautiful eyes starring back at her. You made her whole world, but she got sick again, and it was worse then before. It was frightening because we thought for sure that we were going to lose her this time. But slowly but surely she got better. Do you want some milk?”

“Yes please.” Grandma May grabs a glass from her white cabinets, and grabs the ice cold milk from the fridge. She pours the milk, and grabs a cup holder for Daisy.

“Well, I loved my daughter so much, and got mad at her because I was worried. I said something’s that I didn’t mean. Your momma got angry with me, and asked me not to come around anymore. It hurt me so much when she said that, but I respected her wishes and didn’t come around. But I always made sure that you had pictures, and cards from me, and your grandpa every birthday and holiday. Your momma would send me pictures of you every year too. But we haven’t seen each other since. Then your grandpa passed away.”

“I remember that funeral.” Daisy said with a milk mustache covering her top lip. “That’s when you and I met for the first time.”

“Yup, you were more beautiful. Even at the funeral she wouldn’t talk to me.” Grandma said with a tear coming down her face. She wipes the milk mustache off Daisy’s lip, and smiled at her. More tears began to stream down her face.

“Grandma May why are you crying” Daisy asked. Grandma May quickly turned away from her sight so that she wouldn’t see her cry harder.

“Oh, I’m not sweetie. I got something in my eye.” Grandma May said trying to convince her that she is alright. Daisy gets up from her chair and walks in front of her grandma. She lifts up her small hand to her grandma’s face, and gently wipes a tear from her face.

“Grandma May, everything is going to be alright.” Daisy said with a smile. “We have each other now.” In that moment Grandma May began to smile at this little girl who has so much courage.

“You’re right; we do have each other now.” Grandma May walked into the living room, and took out a photo album. “Come here Daisy, I have something to show you.” Daisy walked over to her grandma to see what her excitement was all about. Grandma May took out pictures of her and the family at Christmas time. These were pictures that meant a lot to Grandma May. She hands over one of her favorite pictures to Daisy.

“Wow, this little girl looks just like me. Is this my mother?”

“Yes. She was very beautiful wasn’t she?”

“Oh yes she is.”

“I love this picture. Your mother could always capture the spirit of Christmas. This is of her, and I decorating the tree together. Your grandpa took this picture. Oh, that was such a great time in my life. It was always me and my little girl.” Daisy smiles at her grandma, and embraces the picture. She looks over to see her grandma’s Christmas tree. It was standing in the darkness, and the tree looked so cold.

“I notice that your tree is not decorated yet.”

“I know. I haven’t had enough time to decorate it. I guess I have been neglecting it because of your parent’s sudden death.”

“Well, can we decorate it together? Maybe I can be your new little girl.” In that moment Grandma May took one more glance at the picture with her daughter in it. She kisses it softly, and puts it back into the photo album.

“Alright let’s get up. In the closet there are all the Christmas decorations. Go grab those boxes, and let’s decorate that tree.”

“Ok Grandma May. Let’s bring this tree to life.” Daisy says while she runs to the closet. She grabs all the supplies and begins to unpack the Christmas decorations for the tree. While Daisy was unpacking the boxes, standing back was Grandma May watching this little girl come back to life herself. She was no longer trapped with sadness, but was overcome with hope. Daisy’s lights began to sparkle within the red brick house. Grandma May grabbed her camera that she hasn’t used in years, and puts in film. She quickly walks back over to Daisy and snaps a shot for a new photo album. She was going to call it Grandma May picks up Daisy’s.

“Come on Grandma May, I need some help.”

“I’m coming.” Grandma May kneels down next to Daisy, and kisses her gently on the cheek, and together they begin to decorate the Christmas tree.

Little Negro Child

Latoya Rhodes

111 So. 1400 W. APT 45

Cedar City, UT 84720

801-556-4112

Toya_latoya@yahoo.com

LITTLE NEGRO CHILD

Growing up in a predominantly white neighborhood when you are of a different race can be interesting; at least it has been for me. I never really understood who, or what I was when I was that little child of five years old. When you are of a different culture, living within another culture, someone might get confused about their outer appearance. For example take a white child and place them in Compton, CA. The neighborhood is filled with Black American’s, and not a white person is in sight. The young child may think that they are black. They might go around saying, “Hey what up dog.” Or, “Fo’ shizzle my nizzle.” They might get beat up in the process, but this child truly believes that they are of the African descendent, until one day their parents tell this confused, young child that they are not of black ethnicity. Well, I’ll never forget the time when this exact thing happened to me. While walking home from school my eyes were opened and I could see the light. I was not white. But now that I am twenty-two I understand that I a different and that I am a Black American. But I’ll never forget that little Negro child that still shines within my skin.

It is funny when I think about growing up in Kaysville, Utah because I was the dark spot on a white piece of paper. I could be spotted within a classroom so easily. Now days I laugh when I tell this story, but at the time it was a scary beginning of coming to an understanding of who I truly was, who my culture was, and my ancestors. The skin upon my bones became a barrier between reality, and fiction. When I was in Kindergarten I became my surroundings. When I was walking home from school the sun was shining upon my beautiful long blonde hair. When the sun hit my Rupunzel like hair it would glow so bright. The wind would push it back while I waved my head back and forth. My hair was amazing. My eyes were as blue as the ocean, and they sparkled. My skin was as pale as Snow White. I was a beautiful Disney princess like Aurora, Ariel, and Belle. I lived in the fairytale land of fiction; however, one day my fiction was ripped from the pages of my story, and I joined the land of reality. It all happened when I looked in a mirror, and I don’t mean just took a glance, I mean I truly looked in the mirror, and stared back at the little girl. She looked nothing like me. She had black as night hair that was pulled half way back, and the other half was draped over her shoulders. Her eyes were dark ebony brown, and her skin resembled the soils of the earth. She scared me. Not knowing that she was me. I was pale, blonde, and blue. At the same time when I would move my head back and forth to feel my flowing blonde hair sway, the mysterious girl’s hair would sway. When I would blink my ocean blue eyes, her ebony brown eyes would reflect the same thing. When I would raise my pale arm into the air, her dirty hand would do the same thing. It was getting annoying, and my patience was growing thin. What was going on? Why was she trying to make a mockery of me? Did she want to hurt my feelings? I moved my head toward the girl. Slowly, I went closer and closer to her until I placed my palm upon the mirror, and she did the same. Her palm was touching my palm, until I realized that we were the same. Our palms were the same. We were the same? WE WERE THE SAME!!! What?! I just stood there, looking at me. I, for the first time saw my true self. She was me. I was her. We were one. I screamed, and cried to my mother.

“What is this?” I asked her while trying to peel off my skin. “What is this mom? I don’t understand.” I began to pout, and tear up. I didn’t understand what was going on.

“Oh, don’t cry honey.” She said, while holding me tightly within her arms. She sat me down and began to explain to me that I wasn’t white.

“You are a black.” she said. It was as simple as that. I am black. I am black? What does that even mean? I just stared at her with a confused expression that masked my face.

“But mom, your skin isn’t as dark as mine.” I said. My mom is both black and white. She has a lighter color of skin than me because her mother is completely white, and her father is black. That was when she began to go into further details about my family, and about what happened to my ancestors. I don’t know if I came to a full understanding, but at that time just the comfort from my mother was all that I needed at that time. But I won’t lie, I started to notice things that I neglected before. I began to notice that the other children in my class or at recess would just look at me with the same expression that I gave to my mother. Their flaming gaze would burn my skin. People’s whispers would pierce my wondering mind. Why didn’t they want to tell me the secrets? I should have known that those secrets were about me. I was also a child that was shy. I didn’t like contention, and like every child, I wanted to be liked. I wanted to be the cool person that everyone wanted to get to know. It was not that way. I was called a lot of different racist names that were hard to bare. I began to be blamed for things that I didn’t do. I became a target of jokes, and tormented for just being me. I became more of an out cast on the paper than ever before. People wanted me to be erased. I didn’t have a lot of friends, and it seemed like the friends that I did have turned their backs on me. I was a lone and pushed out. I was just lucky to have great sisters that were my friends. But I remember one friend in particular. She was my neighborhood friend, and her name was Shanna. She was my next door neighbor who came from a family that practiced the Mormon religion. She was seen throughout the neighborhood as the pure, clean, loving child that could do no wrong. Well, I knew that she was apart of Satan’s army. Shanna was short, and had a full head of bright white blonde hair. Sometimes she would call me mean things, and say that I was going to burn in hell because I was different, but none the less she was my best friend. She was all I had. One day that friendship turned into hatred. It happened within a blink of an eye. We were both in third grade, and Shanna and I were talking about how her parents had bought her brand new eyes glasses that were very expensive. She wore them with pride, and confidence. She was going to be the spark of everyone’s eye in class the next day.

“Do you like them? she asked me.

“Of course I do. They are really nice.” I said. “I wish I think I might need glasses.”

“Why would you need glasses?” she wondered.

“Well, I have problems seeing the board. It looks all blurry and stuff. When I get close though, I can see everything perfectly.

“Why don’t your parents buy you some glasses then?”

“We don’t have the money to buy them.”

“Oh, well that’s too bad.” she said with a smart ass smile on her face. She couldn’t stand when she didn’t have the attention from everybody, especially if it was me. But something happened to her precious new glasses. She broke them within a couple of days. Caput! They no longer existed. They were gone for good. I don’t know how she did it, but she ended up blaming me for her mistake. Those stupid glasses made us mortal enemies like Batman and the Joker. Of course I was Batman, the good guy who shined like the hero should at the end of the story. Let’s just say justice was prevailed. At school she emerged from the dark halls and called me out.

“Hey bitch, you broke my glasses,” she yelled. I turned around to look at her, and I was so confused, and at the same time scared because she just called me the “B” word. That was a word that we were not supposed to say. Her purity, cleanliness, and wholesomeness began to melt away, and she was seen for who she truly was. She proceeded to yell at me and call me other names like nigger, and black bitch over and over again. They were like the Joke was coming at me with his razor-sharp playing card, and I was trying to shield back my tears with my Batman like gadgets. Her little sister was with her, and she came at me to hit me. But luckily the principle of the school was coming up the hall and saw what was going on.

“What are you doing?” He asked us. We all were too afraid to reply to him, so he pointed at my friend and I. He took a hold of our shoulders and took us into a privet room to speck to us.

“What was going on out there?” He asked us.

“Well, Latoya broke my glasses that my parents just bought me,” she said while putting on an act for the principle. I was petrified that I was going to get into trouble for something that I didn’t do.

“No I didn’t break her glasses,” I testified to the principle. “I would never do that. Well, she called me the “b” word, and other things.” I tried to convince him that I had nothing to do with her glasses. I knew if I didn’t get myself out of this situation, I would get into trouble for a crime that I didn’t commit. I felt like I was being forced into an electric chair to await my death while I screamed out I’M INNOCENT.

“She called you the “b” word?” He asked with a confused look on his face. I don’t think that he understood what I meant. “Oh, she called you a bitch?”

“YES,” I blurted out, relieved that he knew what I was talking about. “I don’t know what I did to make her angry with me, but I didn’t break her glasses.” He looked at me, and then turned his attention onto my friend.

“Is this true?” He questioned her. At this time her act began to melt from her face. Shame and embarrassment replaced her lies.

“Yes.” She replied back finally telling the truth. “She didn’t break my glasses. I did.” I was relieved. I still didn’t understand why she blamed me for something she did herself. After the talk with the principle, he made her go to his office and call her parent to tell them the truth; however, the rumble with my friend didn’t end with the principle. My older sister and I were exiting the school bus so that we could walk home, and my friend was standing on the side walk waiting for me to come out.

“You stupid nigger, you broke my glasses,” she began to yell again. At this time she began to hit me with her backpack. I tried to block her away from me, but nothing could protect me from her. My older sister was standing with me trying to protect me from this wicked girl. I finally reached the peck of anger and hit her away from me, and just like that she fell to the ground crying for her mother. Her brother was just arriving to pick her up from the bus stop when he saw me hit her. He came flying faster than a speeding bullet to beat the crap out of me. So my older sister and I ran home as fast as lightening. We slammed the door, and made sure to lock it. We were safe. My older sister just looked at me with this pleased look.

“Way to go sis.” she said proudly.

“Thanks.”

Justice was prevailed. Later on I found out that her parents grounder her, and she was forced to apology for what she did to me. Well, we don’t even talk to each other anymore because after that we were no longer friends. Throughout the neighborhood, while growing up my sisters and I was blamed for a number of things. Was it because we were of a different color? Was it because we were easy targets? I don’t know for sure. But what I do know is that it changed my whole prospective on things in my own life. The little negro girl was all grown up now. Her eyes were no longer blinded by ignorance, and justification for what has happened to her. Still to this day she comes across things, and people that resemble Shanna. It was at the end of a long day of school when I came across something that sparked the fire that was inside me. Placed on a wall was an image that was derogatory toward black people. The word that was chosen to bring down a whole culture was nigger. The word was written with white chalk for all to see. It was big, and frightening. It is a day never to be forgotten. My friends that were next to me were outraged too. They both are white females, and they were offended at such a painful image.

“Wow.” one of them said. “Look how far we have gotten. Nowhere.” I will never forget how much pain I felt inside, and how much pain they felt as well. I came to a realization that I was one with them too. It was like that day when I found out that I was of a different race. It was a race less moment for me. I was them, and they were me. We all were one fighting toward a better tomorrow. I guess that little negro girl is still learning.