Trapped By A Taurus

Alabama 2003

It was prom night...a night that i would remember forever. 

As we gathered together that evening, the language of our hometown, a unique blend of Southern drawl and Ebonics, filled the room. Words like "ain't," "finna," and "y'all" flowed effortlessly from our lips, creating a harmonious symphony of dialect. It was a reflection of our cultural heritage, a testament to the vibrant tapestry that wove together our lives.

My grandmother, with her rich Alabama accent, became the storyteller, her voice filled with a warmth that could melt even the coldest of hearts. She regaled us with tales of her own upbringing, painting vivid pictures of cotton fields, church picnics, and the struggles of a segregated South. It was in those moments that I truly understood the power of oral tradition, the way it bonded us to our past and shaped our future.

In the backdrop of our everyday lives, the charm of Calvert danced like fireflies in the night. The scent of pine trees enveloped us, mingling with the sweet aroma of magnolias and the rich barbeque smoke that wafted from neighboring backyards. It was a place where Sundays were reserved for family gatherings, where the sound of gospel music seeped through open windows, filling the air with a soul-stirring melody.

Yet, behind the picturesque façade, Calvert held its share of challenges. Poverty, crime, and limited opportunities were ever-present realities. But in the face of adversity, our community held together, offering support, love, and a sense of belonging. The bonds between friends and neighbors were unbreakable, a tight-knit network that created a safety net amidst turbulent times.

As time passed, my senior year came to an end, marked by tearful goodbyes and promises of keeping in touch. The echoes of Southern tales faded into the background, replaced by the bustle of college life and new adventures awaiting. And though I left Calvert behind, I carried with me the memories of warmth, family bonds, and the unmistakable cadence of Ebonics that will forever define my roots. I was dressed in a blue prom dress with silver heels and my hair was curled. 

"I can't even wrap my mind around it, my baby girl 'bout to graduate high school," my momma said, her voice thick with emotion as tears welled up in her eyes. I could see it in her face - a mixture of pride and nostalgia, realizing that her little girl was all grown up, ready to take on the world.

Just as we were basking in the joy of the moment, my mischievous brother Tyreese sauntered out of his room, a joint hanging from his lips with a smile that seemed to say he had not a care in the world. At just sixteen, he was living life on his own terms, and my momma, bless her heart, seemed to accept it all without question. In her eyes, Tyreese White was an untouchable force, her unconditional love shielding him from judgment or scrutiny.

In the bigger world, people might raise an eyebrow or shake their heads at my momma's easygoing attitude toward Tyreese's rebellious ways. But in our community, we know that love comes in different forms, and sometimes it means granting a bit of freedom to find your own path. It don't mean we don't worry or want better for him, but we also know that life ain't always so black and white.

''Well..How do I look?'' I asked smiling . 

''Like an angel...so beautiful."My grandmama gushed. I was a good girl and always got straight As in school. I joined the cheerleading squad in my junior year and was also in gymnastics. I had dreams of becoming a chemist and my mother was proud of me. She talked to all of her friends about me and bragged about how she raised such a beautiful and intelligent daughter. It felt good giving her something to brag about because she deserved all the credit. My grandmother and mother raised me with no help from my father and although they were on welfare my mama worked until her hands were blistered up to make sure Tyreese and I had what we needed plus more.  We heard a knock at the door and my brother answered it.