It’s nine o’clock on a Sunday. It’s beautiful weather out – for here. Never mind that my nose is suffering from the chemically polluted air. My nose works hard to protect me; to save my life.
I work hard to protect me; to save my life.
I recently read Uncle Tom’s Cabin. What a good book. The characters became important to me. I wanted them to live – to survive – to overcome the evil, atrocities of their everyday existences.
Faced with being separated from his family, due to the harsh circumstances, called slavery, Uncle Tom accepted. He put his faith in Jesus, and a life beyond. He had faith that Christ was the answer.
This is not what I want to write, a commentary on Uncle Tom; Little Eva, Prue and Aunt Chloe. I do – but it has the feeling of being off track. I want to tell you about Mama Cheri’s Cabin.
My place is small. In a small town, on an island, in the deep south. I live in a neighborhood of mixed cultures. They have become the culture. MIXED. A few white, mostly blacks and a lot of Latin people, of different nationalities. Everyone calls the the Latinos, Mexicans, because “they” think everyone who speaks Spanish is Mexican. “They” don’t even consider Puerto Rico, El Salvador or Uruguay, as a country of origin.
My casita, is representative of my life. It’s cozy, colorful and convenient. It has all that I need. I take care of my cabin, and my cabin takes care of me.
I too am separated from my family.
When my mother passed away, there was an inheritance. Need I say more?
We were the Family at War. Sibling rivalry emerged. Looks, money, land, favoritism, jealousy, resentment, control, anger, hate and more, boiled in the cauldron of competition. It was an uncivil war that no one would win. Yes, some might have gotten ahead materially. But at what cost?
My daughter was a casualty. But was she really? That battle was lost when she was born.
Upper cuts and friendly fire, tore our lives apart, from the onset.
So, as a survivor, I will keep my nose clean. Uncle Tom is a mentor, a hero in my life.
I will breathe the fresh air of a Higher Power.
A family that drinks together stinks together. A family that prays together, stays together.
My family comes in all sizes, shapes and colors.
My cabin is my mother.
Mama Cheri’s Cabin ~ There’s no Place Like Home ~ and Home is Where the Heart Is ~ In My Cabin
* This is posted without links to Uncle Tom’s Cabin, any of the novels characters, or The Family at War. WordPress is always throwing curve balls at me. The same as life in general. It has a new system for posting and linking. It has been discouraging to me. But that is part of the original intent of my blogging. To work with my computer, beyond Facebook. So, I am posting anyway. It’s like when I learned to paint. You don’t want to paint one painting, for the rest of your life. Call one done and move on.