a novella for the National Writing Month Contest at www.NaNoWrMo.org
Chapter One
Umpf! No one said this shit was gonna be easy and I guess I’m finding out the hard way. Sometimes when I wake up to the sound of nothingness, the sweet yawning of morning, I am so glad that I”m alive, yet I just wonder if I could have a long moment of silence where I can only hear the beat of my heart uninterrupted by telephone calls, Imani’s hiccups or sighs, or Issac moaning about what he wants for breakfast. I’m so tired of being this superwoman who has to fly around the house at a moment’s notice. I wish that I could just remember the days when me, Nandi, Siah, and Nia used to kick up our hills at the clubs.
I gotta a little time to myself so I might just jot down in this new red and flowery journal so I can satisfy my daily quota of writing. Writing heals my soul. Writing lets me define and be who I want to be. I’m not in a writing poem type of mood, but just need to vent about the things. And let my soul fly free.
Yawning as I untangle my legs from underneath Issac’s heavy ones, I gently guide my thin legs from his as I listen to the pelting of the rain outside reminding me it’s gonna be a blue melancholy Monday and I’ve got to record these thoughts that are zooming inside my heart and mind before Imani comes in and wants to snuggle her behind between us two today.
When I think of her she makes me smile. I think she’s my reason for living now. A few years ago I would have been so much more selfish than I am now. Now, it’s all about her and trying to provide a stable loving environment for her. Don’t you know how much a child will change you? I know what you are saying, is this the same Joie that had two men vying for her attention? Yes, it is. But it’s not about them, it’s about my baby girl. Her name, which means, faith, is the thing that is getting me along between my bouts of sadness over the changing of my relationship with her father, who is my husband. I mean, I do love Issac, don’t get me wrong, it’s just a little harder now. We’ve struggled for the last two and ½ years with our finances, his business ventures, and some serious health issues with my mother as well as dealing with his hateful mom.
Did I mention her ass hates me? That I can’t do nothing right according to her world, her stupid rules? I mean it has been a while since I’ve heard her say a nice comment to me or generally try to help me out like a Grandmother usually does. I guess she’s still trying to get her groove on and she doesn’t even want Imani to call her “grandma”. She prefers her real name. I don’t understand her at all. I guess it’s just that she still wants to be that young woman having men at her feet. I’ve seen how she acts at our family dinners at Kwanzaa and Thanksgiving times. Yeah, she’s looking for a new love every dayum time I see her she got some new hot boyfriend. Issac grunts over the way she fawns over men, but I don’t even see him trying to have my back when his mom goes off on me about Imani. In fact, I have never heard him say a thing about how embarrassing his mom can be at times. Especially when she’s had too much to drink. Her ass is all over the place, laughing loud, scaring Imani with her heavy sexual talks.
When she gets like that, I steer my baby girl out of the room and leave Issac with his “problem child”. Nandi tells me I should be more understanding but I have tried.
I have talked about it, whined about it, cried about it. Tried to get Issac to at least admit his mom has a drinking problem and that we can help her by providing resources to AA or some kind of counseling but he’s deep in self-denial about it. Whenever I mention it, his eyes glaze over something blank where I can’t even tell if he’s upset about it or not. I think he’s embarrassed but I told him he should not be.
Hell, every family has some family member with some serious problems. My uncle Dyrell is a crack addict and he’s in jail right now. Goes in and out of the pen like it is his only place of refuge. We tried to help Dyrell, give him money, and try to get him jobs but his ass is an addict and a criminal and that is just his thing.
I told Issac that he shouldn’t be embarrassed and that it’s okay to be mad. But he ain’t helping his mother by just pretending she ain’t got a problem.
It takes Sandy to talk about her. And my momma, is the most real person you’ll ever meet. She don’t hold her tongue for nobody.
I’m glad to report we are doing great as mom and daughter. I think that has to do with me being a mother myself. Things do change.
Spoken Word
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