continued from yesterday:
Some old drunk guy.
I couldnt help but to feel like I had seen the man before. He seemed familiar. My brother didn't seem to notice. He went back to watching the Alabama State vs. Jackson State game. I never liked sports. No one else in my immediate family did. Now I know why. My brother told my mother about the man. A year later they told him who he was.
Looking back I can see how he changed a little bit. He started taking me places with him. Giving me advice about girls and helping me with my homework. Then he went to college and Ive only seen him sparaticly since. He was too involved in making himself a better person. Better than his birth father.
As soon as they got remarried my parents decided to have their own baby. They called him Stacy. He hated that name (wouldn't you) and went by his middle name Christopher, not Chris, Christopher.
Christopher was a little different than Sean. If we were the Simpson's and Sean was Lisa, Christopher was Bart. ( I know Bart is two years older than Lisa but work with me.) Its not that Christopher was dumb, actually he was quite smart. The problem was that if there was a decision to make, he would always choose the wrong answer.
Christopher made so many wrong decisions that my parents decided to wait eight more years before conceiving again and hoped itd be a girl. They had me. I was Maggie. The quiet one. Of all the family secrets they kept from me the one they decided to tell me right off the bat was that they were praying for a girl. They reminded me of this often. Not in a mean way mind you.
Could you pass the green beans, oh and by the way we wanted a girl.
Maybe this started my fascination with women.
3.
I wanted Brandy to come with me but she had her own family to see, not to mention its a little early in the game to be meeting parents. She drove me to the bus station where we say our goodbyes.
I hate busses but I also hate having to drive that far by myself even more and I didnt have the money to fly. Donnie cant go because he just got a job at the campus post office and its too early for him to take off.
Bus stations, especially during the holidays, are full of the ugliest, weirdest, dirtiest people youll ever see in your life, that is unless you lived in pre-Giuliani New York city. But as ugly, weird, and dirty as these people are, theyre mostly harmless. No one talks to anyone else at bus stations for any reason except maybe to beg for change but people who take Greyhound Busses dont have change and theres nothing you need to know. Theres a big clock on wall, and signs that let you know were you are, when the next bus is leaving, where the restrooms are, and where you can get some food. Besides, the person next to you is just as clueless as you are. Theyve probably never been here either. Theyll either point to a sign or tell you they dont know. Were not trying to bond with people, were trying to get home the cheapest way we can. If that includes sitting down twelve hours in a crowded, cold (because to apply heat would intensify the horrible bodily smells) bus full of ugly, weird, dirty people, then so be it because it only puts me back fifteen dollars round trip.
4.
By the time I get to Montgomery I can hardly walk my ass is so numb. I see my grandparents and stumble over to give them hugs.
My grandmother is black, my grandfather (of whom I am named after) is Japanese. (Taye is Ethiopian for he is. Kin is Japanese for golden. Isnt that cute.)
I cant imagine what it was like for them growing up in Alabama. My grandfather is part of the 1% population of Asian people. Where and how they met I dont know and never asked. Im a little afraid to find out. The secrets they told me are frightening enough.
They take me to their place while I wait for my parents to pick me up to take me to theirs. I wonder if my grandparents home is how I remember it. Its like a time warp, a giant storage space full of childhood pictures of their kids and grandchildren, old furniture (unlike most old people, there was no plastic on the couch. Imagine that.) and Christmas and birthday gifts from 1965 that they would never use.
Some old drunk guy.
I couldnt help but to feel like I had seen the man before. He seemed familiar. My brother didn't seem to notice. He went back to watching the Alabama State vs. Jackson State game. I never liked sports. No one else in my immediate family did. Now I know why. My brother told my mother about the man. A year later they told him who he was.
Looking back I can see how he changed a little bit. He started taking me places with him. Giving me advice about girls and helping me with my homework. Then he went to college and Ive only seen him sparaticly since. He was too involved in making himself a better person. Better than his birth father.
As soon as they got remarried my parents decided to have their own baby. They called him Stacy. He hated that name (wouldn't you) and went by his middle name Christopher, not Chris, Christopher.
Christopher was a little different than Sean. If we were the Simpson's and Sean was Lisa, Christopher was Bart. ( I know Bart is two years older than Lisa but work with me.) Its not that Christopher was dumb, actually he was quite smart. The problem was that if there was a decision to make, he would always choose the wrong answer.
Christopher made so many wrong decisions that my parents decided to wait eight more years before conceiving again and hoped itd be a girl. They had me. I was Maggie. The quiet one. Of all the family secrets they kept from me the one they decided to tell me right off the bat was that they were praying for a girl. They reminded me of this often. Not in a mean way mind you.
Could you pass the green beans, oh and by the way we wanted a girl.
Maybe this started my fascination with women.
3.
I wanted Brandy to come with me but she had her own family to see, not to mention its a little early in the game to be meeting parents. She drove me to the bus station where we say our goodbyes.
I hate busses but I also hate having to drive that far by myself even more and I didnt have the money to fly. Donnie cant go because he just got a job at the campus post office and its too early for him to take off.
Bus stations, especially during the holidays, are full of the ugliest, weirdest, dirtiest people youll ever see in your life, that is unless you lived in pre-Giuliani New York city. But as ugly, weird, and dirty as these people are, theyre mostly harmless. No one talks to anyone else at bus stations for any reason except maybe to beg for change but people who take Greyhound Busses dont have change and theres nothing you need to know. Theres a big clock on wall, and signs that let you know were you are, when the next bus is leaving, where the restrooms are, and where you can get some food. Besides, the person next to you is just as clueless as you are. Theyve probably never been here either. Theyll either point to a sign or tell you they dont know. Were not trying to bond with people, were trying to get home the cheapest way we can. If that includes sitting down twelve hours in a crowded, cold (because to apply heat would intensify the horrible bodily smells) bus full of ugly, weird, dirty people, then so be it because it only puts me back fifteen dollars round trip.
4.
By the time I get to Montgomery I can hardly walk my ass is so numb. I see my grandparents and stumble over to give them hugs.
My grandmother is black, my grandfather (of whom I am named after) is Japanese. (Taye is Ethiopian for he is. Kin is Japanese for golden. Isnt that cute.)
I cant imagine what it was like for them growing up in Alabama. My grandfather is part of the 1% population of Asian people. Where and how they met I dont know and never asked. Im a little afraid to find out. The secrets they told me are frightening enough.
They take me to their place while I wait for my parents to pick me up to take me to theirs. I wonder if my grandparents home is how I remember it. Its like a time warp, a giant storage space full of childhood pictures of their kids and grandchildren, old furniture (unlike most old people, there was no plastic on the couch. Imagine that.) and Christmas and birthday gifts from 1965 that they would never use.