scraping for pearls

Dear Ma,

Is this how it started?

With you not wantin’ to hold me?

I wanted to not be you so bad. I wanted to be the kinda mama I used to see on the block, walkin’ their kids to school, holdin’ hands, talkin’ like friends.

I swear I ain’t know you was hurt, Ma.

I didn’t know you was just a kid until I held Gracie in my arms. I’m already twice the age you was when you first held me.

Yesterday I didn’t wanna hold Gracie.

No matter how long she cried.

Gracie don’t got you in her. Not a lick. I caught myself thinkin’, Good. Serves you right.

But now I wanna see you. I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t thinkin’ ’bout you.

I’ve even been thinkin’ about Granny.

You remember that one ass whoopin’? You was playin’ that song through her busted record player, the one ’bout the mama “Scraping for pearls on the roadside.”

You thought that was you, didn’t you?

You saw yourself in that music.

I haven’t listened to music since Gracie. She yell over just about everything.

Back then I just thought you was a big ol’ meanie.

That was the day I got my first period. And the worst ass whoopin’. Granny really laid into me for my “attitude.”

And you did what you always did. You just watched.

But I saw your face, Ma. You looked mad. I bet you thought I didn’t notice.

I thought I did somethin’ wrong, like it was my fault.

Were you just mad I was a woman now, and all that comes with it?

Maybe that’s when it started.

You hurtin’, and me not understandin’ why.

All Gracie can do is eat, cry, and spit up. She just three weeks old and the world already gonna see her as a woman.

Did no one ever tell you? We ain’t never truly little girls.

I kinda learned that in school. That’s where I met Joe. He was tall and bookish. I thought I was makin’ a different choice than you. You know how that goes.

I dropped out not long after, ended up with Joe Jr. on my hip just the same.

He got your big head. But he’s kind, Ma. Kinder than us. I’d say he got that from Joe, but some people don’t need to be taught nothin’ to be kind.

Still, I couldn’t shake the idea of a girl.

Braiding her hair. Not hittin’ her like y’all did me. We done spent all of Joe’s money just tryin’ and failin’.

Funny how God works. When you want somethin’, He gets real funny.

At every turn I try to not be you.

But here I go, writin’ like you.

I remember your cracked hands that smelled like bleach. You patted my shoulder once and it felt like sandpaper. Other kids’ moms had soft palms and painted nails. I just saw what you didn’t have, not what you gave. Sometimes I wonder if you ever hoped I'd notice you were tired.

I don’t know why I never told you that.

Why didn’t we ever tell each other things?

Let’s have a secret between us, Mama.

The other positive tests are still in the dresser.

I came up with a new name with every positive. Thought I’d have a Taylor, a Maggie, then a Mary. I named the first one Penny before the line even appeared. Not that you earned that, but I was raised with enough respect to consider you in the namin’.

I can hear Granny now. “Ain’t no point in namin’ babies you’ll never meet.” Don’t that sound like her?

Then one finally stayed with me.

A girl finally chose me as her mother.

All that tryin’, all that hope, all those injections. Just for her to feel like a stranger in my arms.

We picked Gracie ‘cause it was by the Lord’s grace I finally got my little girl.

Gracie sure does cry like you. Sounds more like a witch’s cackle, really. You can hear her cry all through the house, but I’m the one that gotta pick her up.

When she cries like that, I catch myself thinkin’, "How long I gotta hold her before she shuts up?"

And then the thought scares me.

Joe says, “You carried her, ain’t that enough? She drink from your breast, it don’t get no closer than that.”

Of course she latches on easier than Joe Jr. She’s so big they thought I was havin’ twins. She eats that much. But they ain’t got no help for a baby who wanna tear your nipple off.

Why don’t it click the way it did with Joe Jr.?

Is it ‘cause she’s a girl? ‘Cause I wanted too openly?

Don’t she deserve better than me, Ma?

I keep her would-be sisters in the dresser next to your vinyls. None of them collectin’ dust.

I found the one with that song on it. “She lives a life she didn’t choose.”

That lyric is more you than me.

You’d sit there with your eyes closed, your big head swayin’ to the music.

I ain’t got no reason to be writin’ you.

Other than the hope I’d feel somethin’.

The hope my mommy could tell me why I don’t feel nothin’.

Is this where it broke for us? The first time you held me?

Was it the same when Granny held you?

Is that how it started? A mother hurtin’, and her daughter not knowing why?

Then I remember that other part to the song.

“There’s a force stronger than nature/ Keeps her will alive.”

You’d sing that lyric with your eyes open, starin’ at me. I see you now.

My nipples are as cracked as your hands.

Writin’ you, namin’ this feeling, it helps me hold her a little longer.

She’s in my arms now.

Not the way I thought it’d feel, but my arms ain’t empty.

Maybe this is how it stops.

Love,

A daughter who’s tryin’ to see her mother now.