When I discovered my Mothers' Journey to Motherhood

"Papa Butch just died. Do you want to go to East St. Louis to help bury your grandfather?" The invitation stunned me, because my mother and I did not like each other at that time.

It was the summer of 2019. I said yes, even though I took advantage of all opportunities to avoid my mother. We bickered over trivial matters, I felt like she didn't understand me, I thought that she looked down on all my achievements in life, but a little voice in my head told me to go.

We arrived in East St. Louis, Missouri a few days later. During our flight, I had experience an unusual emotion of uneasiness around my mother. We did not argue at any time. The topic of her upbringing in East St. Louis was our activity of choice. A felt a pleasant emotion of vulnerability as we talked with each other, like the flight from Washington washed off the adversarial vibes away. For five hours, I sat and listened to my mother open up as I have never seen her open up before. Almost as if she was happy to go back home to Missouri. I caught myself getting frustrated with the stories she shared. Not with my mom, but with myself. I caught myself saying "Damn, I am a grown ass entitled brat."

My aunt Chenoa picked up us from the airport. The heat, humidity and mosquitoes hit me harder than a 100 mph pitch to the face. I do not wish Missouri heat or mosquitoes on anyone. As soon as we got in the car, I asked if we could visiting their childhood home on 24th and State Street. My mother shared with me when she was 12 years old, she was left in charge of babysitting her two younger brothers, (My uncles) and in the middle of the night, a junkie broke in the house. My mother immediately attacked the junkie and began beating him with a broom stick. She fought the drug addict for five minutes before he left. My grandmother didn't return home until the following afternoon. At twelve years old, my worst problem was making the little league football team.

We arrived at the house or what was left of it. It was completely run-down. If we were in Seattle, this house would have been demolished years ago. To my surprise, there were houses, throughout the neighborhood that looked like this. My mother laughed and said, "Yes baby, your mother is a proud child of the ghetto."

I was blessed with listening to many anecdotes about my mother's upbringing, whether it be from her or my relatives who were in town for the funeral.

The stories that stuck out the most were:

1.My grandmother forgot to pick up my mom from school, so my mother had to walk eight miles to get home in 20 degrees weather, while avoiding being followed by Mr. Barney. Someone who was good to leave little girls alone with.

2. when she had to clean up the vomit off my Papa Butch, because the "hit" he just shot felt "too good."

3. When my grandmother disappeared for three days and my mom had to steal food from different stores in order for her brothers to eat -

These all happened before the age of thirteen.

I remember being upset that I couldn't get a PlayStation when they first came out at thirteen years old.

East St. Louis revealed itself to being a necessary slap in the face of that I needed desperately. All my "issues" with her became obsolete after discovering that I was the son of a superhero. I had never seen her cry...until the day of the funeral.

She didn't cry at the funeral. She chose to be strong for her siblings, my uncles, who were bawling their eyes out during the proceedings. We were driving back to Aunt Chenoa's house from the gravesite, it was quiet for about half the drive and I broke the silence by asking, "How was it like when you found out you were pregnant with me?" She turned to me and smiled and I saw two tear drops fall. I pulled the car over and we cried together on the side of the road for a few minutes. A memory I will forever cherish.

"I am sorry, I never told how it was for me when I found out I was having you." she said, playfully disgusted about the idea of crying as she wiped her tears away:

(This is verbatim)

"I was fifthteen years old, and I had just moved to Seattle. Your granny and uncles were already there, and my mother sent me to get away from East St. Louis. Her and my daddy were into drugs real bad during that time and she wanted me to get away from all the bad stuff. Not surprisingly, granny didn't want me to live with her, because she thought I would be just like my momma. She thought that I would live up to being 'Priscilla's child'. I had met your father not too long after that, then I was pregnant. I was so embarrassed. not because of you, but because I thought that granny was right about me. So I made a choice, I would not put you in a life like I had lived. I dropped out of school and started working at odd jobs, I had moved out your father's house because I was too scared to tell him I was pregnant, I didn't want to be judged. I would make money and sleep in hotel rooms. Until one day, I was six months pregnant and I was walking to go to a job interview and my heels broke. It started to rain and I started to cry. Suddenly, I heard a horn honking at me. It was your father's mom, Big Momma. She cussed me out real good, little Jeffrey. Cussing at me about not telling her that I was pregnant. She told me that I am family to her and she will make sure she helps me. That was the first time someone said they would help, and actually did it. I moved back in and Big Momma helped us get our own place, she helped me get a job at the hospital (My mom still works there to this day) and she made me believe that I can be a damn good mother to you. I promised her to be a damn good mother to you."

I couldn't stop crying. My mother truly loves me and I had been acting like a brat. I finally got to see who my mother was in East St. Louis, a survivor with a heart made of pure gold.

I remember on the flight home, we weren't talking as much like before. I was staring off through the window, reminiscing about my time in Missouri. I felt my mom looking at me and she asked, "What'chu thinking about, Lil Jeffrey?" "You. I've learned so much about a bunch of things. I wished I would have learned years before." I replied. She smirked and nodded, "I know, I have been so focused and worked so hard to provide a better life for you. I convinced myself that this stuff didn't matter."

I leaned in and put my head on her shoulder and she began to massage the crown of head, "Have you learned anything from this trip about me?" I asked. She chuckled, "You are sensitive." We both laughed.

She then asked me the same question, I took a moment to think and I answered, " I learned that you can't judge the journey of a person, if you are not strong enough to walk a mile in their shoes."

My mother kissed my forehead and I fell asleep. On the shoulders of the toughest woman in the world.