Friday, February 20, 2009


I am resistant to writing about my family. Writing about family is taboo. By my family I am referring to my children… somehow it may be okay to write about my grandchildren. I haven’t decided yet.


I still, at this distant stage in life, feel protective of my children. I am their mother. That’s reality and I take my role seriously. Always have. I go into a different state of grace when it comes to being their mother. I remember the time during the Black Power movement that surged through Trinidad in 1970 when I stopped at a traffic light.


Six young thugs surrounded my little blue Volkswagen. Shouting foul names they started rocking my car. My three babies were in the backseat. In a flash I was no longer the romantic academic pacifist had I believed myself to be. I could and would have happily killed, dismembered and eaten any one of those six misinformed young men.



So I won’t write about that today. But I know I am the mother bear forever.


1 comment:

Lorraine Banfield said...

I loved that! I think we are all mother bears or we should be or we have no businss being mothers - that's my take on it. Good writing - I was there with you.