My day care lady Aggie

When I was 6 month old until I was old enough to take children to the bathroom? So like 5? Before kindergarten. So 6mos to 5 years? I went to Aggie. A dead ringer. For my own Mama. Vivatious. Loud! Blaring the music! Country! Woman of my early dreams. She loved me like Mama Jean couldn’t even love me. Squeeze me. My own Mama has prayed her spell on me. And I would have this while she was gone. A woman, a dead ringer laughing, loving woman with a husband she both loved and hated all over the kitchen! 🤣🤣❤️

My Mama can pray. That woman healed me and showed me my worth and taught me skills. Mama Jean? Was jealous of what Linda made and I knew it and Mamas prayers proved it. God provided woman to help me. Show me things Mama Jean didn’t have time or a mind to. She just did not have it. She had other things.

But I was hers. Or so she thought? Or tried to think about me? Honey my Daddy was a player? I play this field of woman. And they teach me. Your not alone. And you don’t own me.

But Mama Jean found out I called Aggie Mama and the jealous shoe hit the fan. And after five years she jerked me right out of Aggies loving care and sent me to Mrs Hamilon down the street. wow. Talk about jerking me around and my kids wonder why I can’t stay still? Hello?

Just like Mama leaving all over. Well? Guess I just got to get used to this leaving thing? Folks leave. Folks make you leave. I do feel like a leaf or a feather at times.

As I got older before the divorce, I would stop by to see Aggie. And remember our brief time and treasure that woman’s time spent on me. Her fragrances. Cantor. Beauty. Hair. Dead ringer for Mama. Right down the street from me? 🤣🤣 oh God is able.

But after I left and Mama Jean showed her ass, Aggie changed. She had a fear in her eyes when she looked at me. I tried to show her it was ok now. But she was weary so I eventually just stopped stopping by. But held a candle. 🎈 or a balloon. She was lovely.

Mrs Hamilon was strange. She broke a spoon over my ass one time. I tighten that ass so tight like a rock. I ran everywhere and had a very muscular ass that broke the blow of that spoon. She cried. While I stood there wondering what had just happened to upset her so? she cried and asked me for forgiveness. Which I gave her and she never did that again? I just stood there and took it and broke that woman? Then we went on to make macaroni art in her craft room and had fun.

Later when I no longer went to Mrs Hamilons. I used to stop by to say hello and ask her how she was doing every now and then. Sometimes I would bring a friend with me to say hello as well. Networking I guess they call it. I am a pro. But she would always give me candy. A reward for remembering her efforts and showing her her value to me as a person. I held no grudges. We had forged a close relationship. She loved me.

She looked like a witch for sure. With a wart on her chin and hair growing out of it. She had a mustache on her upper lip. And hairs in the wart and chin area. Her hair was stringy. Fine. But she did try to brush it up. She was kind and loving. Her finger nails were hard and witch like. I mean she looked like a witch and I loved her. Mama Jean and her magic taught me that after Aggie.

Keep it moving sister. Story of my life. Drink up drink up move down move down.

Adapted. Not adopted.

psychecafe

I am an Adapted, artist, Mother, a soul, a human, singer, writer, activist, minister and deprogrammer and reprogrammer of minds. And I am here because we need to change how you see it, a lot of things that is. For us Adoptees who have lived in the dark. We were cut off from our families. And that is sad people.

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