Nekyia's Threshold

subject:
Black Queen
post date:
2007-02-07 23:17:25
views: 37 comments: 0 ratings: 0

I'm a princess now. Crowned with the love of my husband. Kept with the fruits of his labor. I wasn't always so lucky in love. My first husband beat me, cheated on me, degraded me, impaled me. The greatest gift he gave me was a son and a daughter - and one bruise too many that turned to just the right amount of incentive to leave the relationship.We were the Three Muskateers - my son, my daughter and I. Together we sat around a christmas tree with most of its needles dropped that my grandmother - a teacher - gave to us after having it up in her classroom. We didn't have any presents. It didn't matter. We had a playhouse with a slide on it in the middle of our livingroom that my father built for us. And we played. We grew up together. Me from a teenager into a woman. I stayed on welfare until my pride couldn't take it anymore. No more shopping at 3 in the morning so that I wouldn't end up in line with somebody I knew while using foodstamps. The children and I would make it. There was no child support. I ignored sense and stopped filling out the required forms for welfare. I went to work at a temporary agency, praying for the phone to ring for a new assignment. The children needed to eat. I didn't. I used to eat every couple of days. What a great diet. I watched for opportunities to secure my children's future. The postal exam came around. I took it. I took it again. I took it yet again. That time I got 100 percent on the test and was offered a job. Salvation.The children were enrolled in sports, dance, educational programs. Anything I could do to promote their potential mental and emotional growth I embraced. I worked long, long hours. My mother watched the children. But I never missed a game. I sat at practices. I volunteered on field trips. They were my everything. Those sweet babies with a bad father, and faith in me.Hard times came around again. This time it was with my children as teenagers. They each had their experiences with underage drinking and marijuana. Thank God they never could get away with anything and the police were there to make life an immediate hell, with hope for a future heaven - if the lessons were learned. Don't drink, don't use drugs. Obey the law. Be good. They paid their own fines. They made amends. Eventually they did learn. I loved them so much. I struggled with the knowledge that rules needed to be abided by, and with the memories of what they'd suffered emotionally with their father. I wanted to make everything right for them, but I had to let them taste the fruits of their actions. I remember when I had to talk to my son on a phone, while staring at him in an orange jumpsuit through a plexiglass barrier in a jail. I loved him so much then. I hurt for him so badly then. I offered some truth. Some wisdom. He hung up the phone and got up to leave, turned and found he was imprisoned - with me. He came back to the phone. There wasn't anywhere to go. He learned. I had to watch him suffer in that circumstance just once. He learned.One day, I got a message on my cell phone. It was from my adult son. No longer the sweet baby, not the striving child, not the rebellious teen. A grown man. And that grown man crowned me his queen mother. He let Tupac Shakur deliver his message to me. He left the song "Dear Mama" for me to listen to. Over and over and over again. For a couple years. Every week. I listened to that song left by my sweet baby. Whenever the option of deleting the message came up I hit "RE-SAVE". Redemption. He joked with me that with my eccentricity I might as well have been a crack fiend. He meant the rest of the words too."...and even as a crack fiend mama, ya always was a black queen mama I finally understand for a woman it ain't easy--trying ta raise a man ya always wuz commited, a poor single mother on welfare, tell me how ya did it there's no way I can pay ya back but tha plan is ta show ya that I understand. you are appreciated...... Laaaaady, don't cha know we luv ya Sweeeet Laaaady, place no one above ya Sweeeet Laaaady, don't cha know we luv ya...pour out some liquor and I remenise cause through tha drama, I can always depend on my mama and when it seems that i'm hopeless you say tha words that can get me back in focus when I wuz sick as a little kid ta keep me happy theres no limit to tha things ya did and all my childhood memories are full of all tha sweet things ya did for me and even though I act craaaazy I got ta thank tha Lord that ya maaaade me There are no words that can express how I feel Ya never kept a secret, always stayed real and I appreciate how ya raised me and all tha extra love that ya gave me I wish I could take tha pain away If you can make it through tha night, there's a brighter day everything'll be alright if ya hold on it's a strugle everyday gotta roll on and there's no way I can pay ya back but my plan is ta show ya that I understand you are appreciated..."My daughter called and left a message on my cellphone a few months ago. It was Tupac Shakur "Dear Mama". And I listen to it. Weekly. Its my honor to be your crack fiend, black queen, children - your dear mama. Its my life.