Memories of Big Mama

Last night I spent time with some of my father's sisters who are in town because one of his sisters is in the hospital. Of course, I went to see her first--we laughed and prayed. I could see both my grandfather and grandmother in her, but when I walked into my Aunt Marilyn's home last evening and saw my Aunt Barbara who I hadn't seen since I was a little girl I saw my Big Mama. It was amazing it was as if she was alive and sitting at the table. Now if she was alive she wouldn't have been sitting down she loved to cook. She would have been busy making a fuss over everybody.

My Aunt Marilyn had prepared a meal and it taste just like my Big Mama's food. They all laughed when I told them about the time Big Mama came to visit and I got in trouble before she got there. I couldn't have been no more than two--yes I can remember this--and no no one has planted this memory--. My mother had dressed me in a red and white dress and I had on training pants underneath the little ruffle under pants. I was so excited (and still am) about getting dressed up for company I wet myself and on my mother's red sofa. I went and hid in the kitchen. My mother was so mad and of course I got a spanking. When Big Mama finally arrived she picked me up anyway and made it all better.

In all of these five women sitting around that table I looked for who possessed her gentle spirit. I looked for it not only in their faces or in how the food did taste but beyond their eyes brown like hers.

Tomorrows my youngest daughter, Brittney's birthday. It's hard to believe how quickly time is passing. She entered this world with drama. This should have given us some indication of what her personality would be like. She is her own person and she entered into the world in her own time. I remember I couldn't wait to hold her--okay I couldn't also wait for her to vacate the premises. Now I look at her, tall lean and full of life's questions. Time's moving too fast and now I can't wait to see her when I let her go and she vacates the premises once again. And this time I know I won't be ready.

My Best Christmas

My youngest daughter, Brittney, asked me "what was my best Christmas ever?" Honestly, I had to stop and think about it. Christmas was always a big deal in our house. I told her about my new Barbie and the car I got to go with her. It didn't compare to what they ask me for, but I was wanting her to understand the significance of the memory.

Every year I try to please them on Christmas morning waiting for them to truly experience that same feeling. Not just the feeling on that particular Christmas but the elation and appreciation I felt every year. I have always been somewhat disappointed, so this year I decided to convince my husband to get as many of the things they wanted on their list. I told them if they were not satisfied this year next year we would only have decorations and dinner--no gifts!!

We opened our presents Christmas morning and the return on our investment in a few packages is well, priceless. Brittney was so touched by her presents she laid in my arms and cried. All day she repeatedly smiled and said thank you. My son ran all over the living room and and up the stairs and landed on top of his dad. The two of them screamed and jumped it was such a joy to watch.

I've been thinking all day, was it the gifts? I would like to think they got it! That they felt gratitude. The same I felt every Christmas and every time I think about the ultimate gift of love.

time

It's hard to believe time passes as quickly as it does. Mainly it's whether or not I have used time wisely that bothers me.

Twenty-two years ago I had my first child. I wonder about all the years in between today and that Thursday evening. I'm sure there are photographs stored away somewhere to remind me of some occasions.

Today her second birthday comes to mind. I dressed her in a little denim outfit. She posed for every picture. She had full cheeks and a big head. She wasn't fascinated with her cake just the idea that the day was set aside to celebrate her.

When I think of her all grown up and away from home doing an internship in D.C., I think about the years in between that day and today. I hope who she is today is a reflection of how I (we) spent the time.

the unknown

I have always hated being made to feel less. I'm not referring to race but in my abilities. Somehow this has been woven into the fabric of what makes Pam. I'm sure if I researched this it would lead me back to some place in time where I was left out of some event I deemed important. What instantly comes to mind is the time my older siblings went to see Star Wars. This was of course in the 70's and we walked everywhere. We all started walking to the movie theater down town and I'm not tall and I was young so I couldn't keep up. They left me. I cried all afternoon. Consequently, I hate Star Wars and have never seen a single movie!

For years in so many arenas I have repeatedly tried to overcompensate for this feeling. I hate not knowing. I'm discovering more and more I am very uncomfortable in this place. It leaves me feeling small inside. It leaves me on the front porch waiting for everyone else to return from the show.

homage to my hips
by Lucille Clifton

these hips are big hips
they need space to
move around in.
they don't fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don't like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top!

I discovered this wonderful poem today. A day when my hips were on my mind. I wasn't necessarily celebrating them--until now!

Interviewed

Being interviewed reminds me of the playground and the image of me standing there waiting to be chosen for a team to play kick ball. I always wanted to yell, "I'm short but I can run really really fast!" Instead I would always stand there twiddling hoping I wasn't the last one selected. The job interview is a process I know is necessary; but I don't necessarily enjoy it. Today I decided to be as honest and as open as possible so my answers wouldn't sound canned. Well, I'm so diverse I wonder did I scare them away? They asked everything except for what I had for breakfast this morning. Who can stand rejection? No one! Who's patient enough to wait on the phone to ring? Not me! I told my mother today, "I don't have the patience of Job." (Job--job--pun not intended) I have fought for years to separate myself from that scared little clay colored girl with rust colored afro puffs standing against the wall of life, but inevitably she shows up every now and again.