My sister Victoria and myself do appear like the hippies of the family? The witches. The dark ones. The spiritual ones. Lizzy? Not so much. Phylis? who knows? Victoria. I do know. She’s been as honest as she can be tell me what she was told and showing me how Mama became after me. She dared to show me the ugly. Why? Cuz she knows I am the help. That’s I do have enough love to break the spells Mama cast over us all.
I know. She speaks for Mama. She translates. I know that. I know she’s devoted to our Mama and is very protective. Why she has felt I was a threat? Well who does she work for? Yeah. What was she trying to protect? What threat am I? To my own Mama? What threat was I to Marcia? Hmmm?
To be a fly on Mamas wall. And hear her stories. Her tales that stop a cousin from being open to me? A tale that causes her to block me? What a tale indeed. I do miss the cioppino. Oh my god! Marcia makes the best I’ve tasted. Fresh ingredients. And all I got was one visit with her at her home and then. Aggie. All over. Drink up drink up move down move down. A poetic justice done to her cousin the poet. Priceless.
My Papa got old and he forgot me. But I get it. And he would ask me, when I would go visit him, who are you to me? I would say, I am your granddaughter. Pistol. Cyclone. And then he would thank me for reminding him who I was to him. After the divorce. Nana and Papa weren’t around much. In fact me and Mama Jean went to visit them. I don’t remember them coming to dinner. Ever. They kind of abandoned Mama Jean.
Which caused her to drink. What a pill to take while loving Linda’s girl. Me and Mama Jean having to face the worlds opinions about us. My father and all mess. And we walked in that world as best we could. United.
I do feel that I exceed Victoria a bit though. having to strain so much and practice more having more then one Mama she’s working to heal. They must see themselves as friends. Friends fight. Friends have other ideas of what Linda’s girl needed to learn. People to meet and learn from that look like witches.
Like Mrs Cates the local ceramic lady doing business from her garage. Mama Jean sent me there to use up my energy in a positive way. And I excelled and Mrs Cates loved me. I was quickly promoted to the adult class. I was very advanced.
Mrs. Cates drank RC cola and smoked cigarettes. She wore slippers and her big long nailed toes stuck out beyond the shoes. She was much like a dragon witch. Kind. Loving. She taught me so much. Idle hands. Those would not be mine. I may be a devil but my hands are gods to use. And I use them. Words.
I loved going to Mrs Cates and making things for family and friends. But then. The divorce. Drink up drink up move down moved down. Mrs Cates was something we could not afford. Piano took. And I learned again. These woman all profited off all my practicing and yet reaped no-rewards for finishing the job because they bought the lie it was all about money. They gave up on me. I could have been teaching classes and earning my way.
My piano teacher. Blind. Memorized always. I played by ear. Gifted. Given up on. My Mamas child raised adopted. Did anyone see my true potential? Who’s my true cheerleader? God.