Smith 1 Jolisa Smith February 2, 2011

Ms. Scapatici

English Memoir

Good Morning Jo

This morning I awakened to the sound of my mother screaming deafeningly into the phone at my sister. During that moment I did not know what was being discussed, but I knew she was extremely upset about something. My sister had probably done something to upset her again. I wanted to comfort mom but I was tied down by the curse called tiredness, so I continued to lay there with my eyes open staring at the dark shadows which surrounded me. I looked over to my closet where my clothes hung in misery from the clutter, and noticed the door was cracked. Oh my goodness, mom had been snooping in my closet again.

I am deathly afraid of vampires jumping out of my closet while I sleep, biting my long giraffe-like neck so I can turn into a blood-loving, nocturnal monster-of-a-human- therefore I make sure my closet door is shut tightly every night, faithfully. This fear is entirely my fathers fault, for he and his girlfriend at the time, took me to see Blade when I was six years old. I will always remember the opening scene that took place in a night-club of some sort, and then suddenly blood started pouring from the ceiling and fangs began to appear in the mouths of poorly dressed women in leather shirts and pants revealing their perfect mid-drifts. I am sure

Smith 2 you can imagine how traumatizing it was to be the only child in a movie theater filled with adults, every single one admiring the gut wrenching film being projected onto a gigantic black wall.

I lay there furious from the thought of my mother prying through my belongings, while anticipating her to enter my room for the routine military-like wakeup call. She usually yells it through the thinly layered wall that separated her room from mine. It is not very uncommon for my mother and me to bicker and argue in the mornings. I feel as though the tension is due to our contrasting personalities. Waking up every morning from dreams of ones mother strangling her to death for being one minute late to school does not give reason to extend her arms to express the undying love she has for that parent. I say late because Samantha likes to leave the house at 7 oclock so she can find a parking space close to the building where she works, ignoring the minute detail that I do not have to be at school until 8 oclock. Wake up Jo, its 6 oclock, my mom bellows through the barricade surrounding my bed, dresser and nightstand. It sends burning alarms through my body when mom says it is 6 oclock when she and I both know it is really 5:55 am. Rolling over for what I knew would be the last time before she entered my personal chamber and lit it with the fire from her dragon esophagus, seemed like it would be the death of me. I had five more minutes to repose in the warmth of the once plush and comfortable, but now springy and indented mattress of mine. I

Smith 3 saved the short moment of bliss for another day and slowly move towards the sun rising from the bathroom across the hall.

Jo, this is the last time I am going to tell you, wake up. She was well aware that I knew the consequence for not getting out of bed, a mattress filled with water and the pajamas to match. Yes, this has happened before. Samantha has filled an entire bucket of water and thrown it on my head because of my refusal to get out of bed. I look to my left at the bare lavender wall, then to my right at Mr. Snuggles- the one and only faithful man in my life- and then at the mirror which stands on top of a purple shoe box covered in dust that appeared from LA LA Land. I see my reflection and am not surprised at all by what I see. Good morning Jo I say, let us begin this already miserable day.

Smith 4

Ugly
Ugly, The word that makes her heart race And stomach drop When used to describe the physical appearance Of the girl she sees every day in the mirror.

Her skin is that of a melted Milk Chocolate Hersheys bar With the shine of a bright star In the night sky.

The brown creamy casing Turns into a deep shade of red velvet When put into a heated dense atmosphere And when the indefinable word, Ugly, Is thrown her way.

Why did God make me this way? Shell say.

Golden And silky smooth describes JoAnnes skin, But it seems that no real man will ever know, For her appearance conflicts with that of any wise mans fantasy.

Mid length deep rosette hair that forms a circle, Resembling a halo above her oval shaped skull.

The half-moon shaped strands of beauty

Smith 5 That form the majestic halo Intertwine, Scatter And mate To form the ultimate symbol Of natural African-American beauty and pride, The Afro.

She hides behind her glasses with the red framework So when one glances her way The only thing visible is the tinted pink glare.

No sane being would dare attempt gazing In the pair of diamond studs so perfectly hidden.

Why do they hate me so? She cries out. Love is what she needs from him. She convinces herself that it is because of her Biologically foul appearance, That they avoid her presence.

This admirable coffee coating Is a permanent blemish That corrupts the world into believing She is less than capable of pursuing Anything That can be worth Everything

Smith 6 To someone.

The life of one human being, She cannot change Because of the stain That causes all hopes to be unsustainable.

Unbelievable, Is the ignorance of those few people Who make JoAnne the girl she is. Separate but not equal is simply unjustifiable, Indefensible And all together unsanctionable.

He doesnt know his ass from his elbow. Incomprehensible, Is the idea that she is worth more than He And they Say She is.

These aliens have no class And will never get past the things of which have passed. The viability of the driven, who obtain no license, Yet display more than enough potential Is beside the interests these savages appear to have.

Why do they judge me unfairly? She screams with frustration

Smith 7 You Are not the victim, They are.

I see no stain, Because your pigment is an honor. God made you this way because He loves you.

What they do is not called hate, It is mere envy; They call you Ugly because they fear the beauty of your mind.

JoAnne, The purity of your soul illuminates Beyond what the human eye can see. Your heart is worn on your sleeve And has been beaten Severely For much too long.

Now is the time to be strong, Hold your head up high, And let your heart race, Your stomach drop and your face turn red.

The day has finally come, Hey Ugly, its time to put you to bed.

Smith 8

Laverne Mitchell

I ca-nt... Brea.. are the last syllables I am capable of forcing out of my aching chest before my surrounding co-workers turn into disfigured shadows in front of white walls and then into objects disappearing in thick black air. I am pleading for just a little bit of oxygen so I can make it to the machine that has saved my life so many times before. Thoughts are racing through my head. I dont think I can make it in time; in time to tell Shanice and Marquise I love you and momma will always be here, even when I am not here. In time to tell Daryl Thank you for being my rock to lean on when the ground slipped from under my feet. In time to call mom and say Thank you for all youve done. Shed always say I know you dont like me now because you are young and dumb but one day youll thank me for everything. I wish I would have done so sooner; instead I let time whisk by without the slightest utterance of the simple yet meaningful words of gratitude. The thought that the day I say Thank you to mom would never come, didnt cross my mind until seconds ago when I found myself in the doorway of my office gasping for air and noticing how far away my nebulizer was.

It was just this afternoon that I felt perfectly healthy. I had spoken to Shanice on the phone about her brother, Marquise who I call Mar Mar. Mar is such a hard headed child, and I hate to admit it but he is just like his momma was. I was young at one time in my life and I

Smith 9 wanted to run the streets and act foolish just like all the others but then came the time to grow up. My son is twenty-two years old and still has not grown up, however it needs to happen soon or Mar has a tough road ahead of him. The streets are not all of what life has to offer and I was hoping to help him realize that life I can hardly think anymore. My hands are becoming limper by the second and my car keys have suffered a tragic fall from the safety of my palm. I feel as though I am up next, to take that catastrophic plunge into the dark hole awaiting my arrival in the back of Graceland Cemetery. Seconds ago the air was strong enough to hold the weight of my short frame but the gravitational string that held my legs firm to the ground has been cut. I am not floating; I am plummeting to the surface. I can hear Sandras voice yelling Someone call 911 immediately! I can feel the tender touch of four hands cradling my body but I no longer can identify who these people are. This black air is what I swallow, unaware that the outcome of its inhalation would be worse than ever before. I dont want this to be goodb

Darkness, I can see nothing. This must be a dream. I am on a bumpy trail but there are police sirens. Am I being chased by the police? Oh boy, not again. I know I was young and dumb but really God; you want to really take me back to this place? I cant feel my body and I cant move my lips. There is a sharp feeling in my arm close to where I used to stick patients for their IV, when I worked at the hospital. Is God trying to tell me something? My mouth is

Smith 10 extremely dry. Does anyone have some water up in this bitch? Im thirsty as a mother fucker dammit! I really need to wake up from this dream or else I might have a heart attack .

Hey Shanice, I am so happy to see you baby, I had the worst dream ever. I was wait a minute. Why are you crying? Sha Sha whats going on? Can you hear me? My eyes wander around the room in a flickering pattern. It is almost as though someone is turning the lights on and off, but I know that this couldnt be because the speed at which theyd be flickering would be astronomical; that is unless this is another dream. No, this has to be real. The muscles in my eyes are weak and I cant seem to focus on one object. My mouth feels like sandpaper and I cant move my lips because there is something stuffed in my mouth that runs through my throat. There are tubes everywhere and the sound of the machines alone, make me feel destitute.

I am in the hospital. Everything is moving at an extremely quick speed and my eyes are still doing that flickering thing. One moment I see Shanice and then the next I dont. I see her again with a different colored scrub on and then shes gone again. Daryl also has stopped by a couple of times too, but no sign of Marquise. Oh my son, he just tries to break my heart as often as possible. Who would have known that I could create such a selfish and vengeful child?

I am helpless and no one can save me. I can feel the buckets of water stored in the back of my eyes beginning to overflow and pour out into the open air. I might as well lay here and

Smith 11 die. No more pain or sorrow. No more broken heartedness or resentment, everything will just be erased.

Why is my mother here? I dont deserve this, she shouldnt be here. After all the things Ive done and the hurtful things Ive said, there is no way she could be here, sitting beside me, holding my hand consoling me in this time of misery and despair. This is the moment; I have to do this before it is too late. I squeeze her hand tightly and move my eyes toward her direction. I have undug the words buried in my soul for way too long and try to set them free. I am out of breath and my heart is racing. I can feel her soft hands rubbing my arm and saying Now dont you go actin up now, just rest.

Ttt- thhh-thththa-thank you, I force out, with the biggest smile I can make with a tube pried in between my lips. I am extremely satisfied and so is my heart but mommas reaction was not as expected. She is walking away and I cant see anymore. My body is weak and my

THE END