My Mama

My love for feeding my family and anyone else who comes to my house isn’t just a random personality trait. I get it from my mama. 

Mama was my grandmother. The woman who I adored. The most amazing cook I ever knew. My superhero. She always seemed to get everything done in a short amount of time. On a Saturday morning, before I even woke up, she’d have already made 2 market trips (by foot), watered her many plants, fed her chickens and ducks and was finally sitting with a cup of coffee. 

On a Sunday, lunch was ready by 11:30am sharp. And I’m not talking peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She was the true definition of a Trinidadian grandmother. We had stewed Chicken, callaloo, macaroni pie, plantains and salad ready and waiting before midday. 

In her gallery (front porch). My favorite place to be.

I feel cheated. I only got to spend summers with her. She lived in Trinidad, my parents migrated to NY in 1989. Sometimes she’d come and spend the whole summer with us. Those were the days. She sat on the stoop and watched us play with the neighborhood kids. She always had her “grandchildren money” waiting for when the Mr. Softee truck came down the street playing its iconic music. 

That’s a fake smile. I was really sad that she was going back to Trinidad that day.

My summers in Trinidad were unforgettable. Simple things like laying on the couch in her front porch while she cut up veggies. I’d listen to her stories about “long time” (our phrase for how things used to be). Or going for an evening drive to town to get ice cream. Or waking up super early to head out shopping with her. Simple things. The things that I’ll always remember. 
On June 2, 2015 my superhero officially retired. She served the Lord all her years and was finally in His Kingdom. I thought she’d be here forever, as silly as that sounds. I miss her so much. She always had the best advice on anything. I mean ANYTHING! All in all, in my eyes, she was perfection. The most perfect grandmother I could’ve ever asked for. My life has and never will be the same. A piece of me is gone, but yet, she still lives in me. I have taken up gardening because she loved her garden. I ask her (and my dad) for help in the kitchen. They are my two angels. 

I miss you, Mama. You worked hard your entire life making sure everyone was taken care of. Now it’s your time to rest. I’ll see you again. 

My darling Mama

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