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My Mother Life

Decent Essays
One of the hardest things about beginning this writing has been trying to narrow down what part of my mother’s life I would try to write about. A quick version of my mother’s story, born in Fayette, Mississippi, while in the adjoining room her grandmother for whom she was named, Mollie, went to her eternal rest. In the words of Jasleen Kaur Gumber, Grandmother Mollie: “A flame that flickered, and a soul that whimpered”, My mother: “A candle that blazed, and a fragrance that raised.” The family soon transplanted themselves to Memphis, living in the Foote Holmes Housing project, then Dudley street, then Edith Street. With each step, a move up the ladder. My Grandfather was a cobbler by trade and my Grandmother was a teacher, turned housewife and mother. When I came along, we were comfortably in the Edith Street home. By Black standards of the time I lived in relative luxury, though I never had my own room, and slept on the pullout couch in the living room most of the time I was growing up. My mother was among the first generation of women to exercise a legal maneuver known as divorce. Divorce, was relatively unthought-of in the Black community. It did not matter if your husband was a cheater, abusive, on alcohol or on drugs, women just stayed and endured. The right to sit on the front bench at the funeral, was your purple heart and key to heaven. NOT MOLLIE! When it became apparent to her that she was not going to enjoy the level of dedication,
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