Could You Be The Most Beautiful Girl In The World

Another thankful post. Because my granny left her post as the neighborhood angel of mercy for a couple days to spend time with her favorite grandchild for Thanksgiving.

Yeah. I said it. I’m DA FAV, fam. Get into it.

Anyway, my grandma is the heart of who I am. A fellow Aquarius, Momo (is what we call her) is what you would call a healing soul. She will make you better by food, prayer, and general refusal to let you convalesce in her presence. Her love is fierce and never-ending.

When she came to visit, we were sitting around while she cooked, and she told my eldest child of how I cried and cried about how ugly I thought I was. You see, I had the eczema. Bad. So bad in fact, that I could not wear shorts to school because of the oozing sores on my legs that nobody at my school wanted to see. She talked about how I fell apart when I got the chicken pox because GOD now my face was finna be gross.

I didn’t remember that until she said it. But I do remember the comfort she always brought me. How I love myself so much now because she never ever let me forget how pretty I am and how much I was loved. How she even now prays and sings over me, my own personal God-given rejoicing despite all my various levels of ain’t-shitness through the years.

I aspire daily to that level of love.

She is the reason I am a good teacher. Not because she was so educated but because she has and continues to teach me how to love people right where they are. Where my mother has built me up Tonka tough, my grandmother has softened the edges and made me palatable.

And for that, she is and will always be beautiful to me.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s