This essay about “important people who influenced your life" left me lost. I had no idea who I should write about. I choose to write about my grandmother. I know what you are thinking, but this isn’t your typical grandma story. This is not your typical grandmother.
I can’t explain her qualities. They are not tangible, as there was an air about her that is best described through examples of her thoughts, so I’ll share with you the very first memory I have of her, the time I wrote in the wet concrete in front of our home.
We all lived in a 3 story corner home in Springfield Gardens. Like the name of the area suggests in your mind, there were tree lined streets. The entire neighborhood was newly developed as a part of the construction of the Rochdale Village Co-op apartment development. Homes were middle class and many of the families there were relocating from other areas like Harlem, which is how my family got there.
One day during my 4th or 5th year, they had repaved the sidewalks as a final step to development of the neighborhood. As you can imagine having just recognizing the concept of time, I wanted to write my name in concrete because I saw other names written in concrete in the neighborhood and couldn’t wait for my opportunity at immortality!
After writing my name in the wet cement I proudly ran into the house and told Mumma (pronounced muh-muh) as we called her, what I did. “I wrote my name in the sidewalk outside!” I proclaimed. “Really!?!?” she said and she looked at me with the same excitement in her eyes that I had.
I told her how I found a stick and how my name would be there for all to see - FOREVER!! “Really?” she said, still excited as I was. She was making her famous tea, and had just added the cream when I came in so, she was now sitting down in front of her favorite window to watch the birds in our back yard.
All of a sudden, a look came over her face, and she said, “But wait. For –Ever?”. She separated the word so I could gleam the understanding of what forever means. “Yes!”, I replied, still proud of myself for the timeless achievement. Then she said, “ But won’t people walk on it? It is a sidewalk.”. I froze, I had not thought about that for this was not my intention. “I don’t know if I want people walking on my name, FOR-EVER.”, she said. “ I think I want my name up high, like on a billboard, or in lights like a star!”.
How could I have not seen this? I was suddenly taken by the thoughts she fed me. “I want my name up high too!” I replied. “I want your name up high too!”, she said as she smiled quietly to herself. She stirred her tea and looked out the window; a squirrel had just dug up a nut and ran off to do what squirrels do with freshly recovered nuts. She had a love of nature that spilled out to all her children and me, her first grandson.
I immediately ran outside fearing the cement had dried, dooming me to eternity underfoot!! It had not – and I quickly brushed off my name, as I had seen the workers brush the surface of the material to add texture…I removed my name and made a mess. However, my name would not be walked on FOR-EVER, and I was glad.
Often when I tell people these stories, I feel sorry. Not for my grandma, because I know she’s in a better place. The sorrow I feel is for the people that hear about her but will never actually speak with her, to witness her unique personality and blossoming spirit. Perpetual positive motivation the likes of which I’ve never seen again. The world is a sadder less inspired place without her. She had a way of speaking to you that made you feel like the most important of God’s creatures, because she honestly felt we were. We were her children, my aunts and uncles, my mom and me. We all lived in that home on and off for the next 20 years.
me, Mumma and my Uncle Ameaga ( I'm on the right, in the pampers.)I miss her and I love her to this day. And there again is that familiar sorrow that comes with sharing her story with you, because these pages and words will never shine a light on her flesh and blood.
