All About It

Oh it was as hot as the bud on a burning sage smudge that August day when my little-big mind was ablaze with questions, thoughts, conjectures, and proclamations. My Mama pulled and squeezed at my kinky hair till she was sure I was presentable for...I'm not sure for whom, or for what.

It was one of those sticky summer “I gotta take three showers” New Orleans day. I sat with folded legs between her hearty thighs and the sweat on my Mama’s legs mixed with the sweat puddling on my tiny frame. My arms touched her thighs; I could not make my body small enough to avoid contact. 

And yet, I reached to touch her calf. I touched her calf and squeezed it. She didn't comment on this. She just kept pulling at my hair. As my head felt tighter and tighter, I squeezed and squeezed. Mama’s calf was soft and round and squishy. I couldn't help but think how lovely it was. Mama’s lovely thighs mixed with this miserably hot, humid day, tucked within the 6th ward, right up the street from Dooky Chase. 

Still squeezing Mama’s thighs, I thought that I didn’t want my hair pulled back. Tight and hidden. I want my hair free and unshackled, "wild." I don't want to look presentable to folks who just don't matter anyhow. I want to stare at people from the upstairs window so I'm sure they can't see me, and I want to imagine and dream and think and then I will leave, wander, travel, have adventures. I am alive and I will write all about it.