Ebony's Journey, Macarevhic's Story

Chapter 5

"Hey, baby, how was school today?" mom greets back with a smile. My mother, even at thirty seven years old, looks like she still in high school. She hasn't changed a bit. If she wanted to she could enroll into a high school right now and fit in. Maybe it's her short 5'3 stature. She has honey brown skin and light green eyes.

She also has medium length brunette hair. My mama is beautiful, and she is quite the catch around here in the neighborhood. She is so busy at work, she hardly has time for dating. She works at the hospital as a LPN and is studying to be a RN. You see my mom is African American, and my father was a full blooded Hispanic.

When he was around, he wanted the whole house to be all about the Hispanic culture. That's why I can speak Spanish and have a slight accent. Hispanic culture has been a huge cultural influence in my life. My dad used to play a lot of popular Latin music My abuela is also Hispanic. She is light skinned, with light hazel brown eyes.

She also has long white hair, even in her elderly stage you could see once where she was a true beauty. "Hello my Macarevhic," my abuela says carrying a big measuring cup to put into the kool-Aid. It makes me cringe, because the doctor says that abuela is more vulnerable to diabetes.

I wish she didn't use so much sugar. It's makes me nervous, that one day I will wake up and she won't be there. I love my abuela she is the backbone for this family. When we didn't have nothing she helped us. In other words, my mom and I need my abuela. "What's for dinner?" I ask setting my book bag down in a corner. "Is that all you think about is food?" mam asks jokingly.

I laugh and pat my stomach. "I can't help it mama, I'm a growing boy." "Yeah that you are. Where has the time gone?" she says, with a hint of reminiscence in her eyes. Later on we sit at the table I hungrily attack my chicken quesadilla. Mom chats on about her day at the hospital. "Macarevhic stop eating like un perro hambriento ." mama scolds.

"Gloria leave my Macarevhic alone. He's just a boy." abuela says. I smile. Abuela to the rescue. I look at the chicken clock on the wall. Abulea brought the clock from a garage sale, and she said it reminded her of my grandfather. Mama and I thought it was just flat out ugly.

But we can't say no to Abulea and now that we've gotten used to it, it adds character to the kitchen. It's 7:47. I still have enough time, to make it to "My Black Freedom." It's a local poetry shop.

It's speaks something that everyone wants to avoid. Something that everybody hates to hear, and would go to the ends of the earth to never let it be spoken, THE TRUTH. It's my escape from the real world. Poetry is a passion of mine.

I hope that one day I can turn my poems into songs. Music is a passion of mine. My abuela says I get it from my abuelo. My abuelo was in a local band, called the "serpientes furtive," back in the 50's. She said they were pretty popular.

I can almost imagine my abuelo in front of a crowd rocking out. I sneak another look at the chicken clock, 7:56. "Somewhere else you want to be?" abuela ask. "Umm, I would like to go to My Black Freedom." "Again? Macarevhic you are spending to much time at that place." mom interjects.

"Oh, Gloria let him go. Macarevhic is not into the kind of trouble he used to be into, and plus it's good he's doing something constructive." Abuela to the rescue once again. Mama does a defeated sigh. "Be back by ten." she mumbles. "I jump out of my seat and I kiss them both on the cheek. I close the door tightly behind me.

Twenty minutes later I step into the dimly lit poetry shop. The aroma of coffee and cinnamon buns surrounds my nose. I sit down in the plush sofa. "Hey Macarevhic," says Jada, a regular hear at my black Freedom.