LIFE WITH AN 8 YEAR OLD GIRL Pt 1
My Daughter: Mom, are you going to tell me “No” every time I ask for something?
Me: I told your Daddy “yes”, just be grateful for that and leave me alone, I’m tired and I need a nap.
Madear is short in stature. She speaks in gentle tones with a high pitched voice. Her skin is dark. I liken it to the color of the blackberries growing on prickly vines in the Louisiana summer sun. To get those berries when they are plump, juicy and sweet, we check on them daily and hope that no one else beats us to the tree or field to pick them first. Plump, juicy and sweet –just like my Madear– are those blackberries, and their darkness makes them pretty and inviting to my heart.
Those blackberries make me anxious to be near the source of their sweetness. The darker they become, the more my mouth waters with anticipation to pick them, wash them, and put them in my mouth, if I can wait long enough to reach running water. Continue reading Louisiana Blackberry Summer a prose by Jolivette Anderson-Douoning