Best Chicken Dinner Ever!

Lately, I've been revisiting family memories in my mind, that have previously made their way to the pages of some of my books and online stories.

Looking back makes me a bit sad, but it's also a great reminder of just how strong and resilient a woman I am.

That's because I've always taken the trauma I experienced in my past and used it as a catalyst for much of my writing. This has been the case for years, regardless of the writing platform I find myself on.

Many of the self published books I currently have on sale in the Amazon marketplace, are the direct result of personal hardships and experiences from my own difficult past.

The following is a short excerpt that I took from: Undamaged: Confessions From the Soul of An Unbroken Black Woman.

The stories offer a compilation of personal essays and short fiction stories, all based on my real life experiences, and help demonstrate how I used my love of writing and the art of storytelling, to survive the heavy weight of abuse and neglect.

Readers will find a small collection of heartfelt stories, presented in both a fictional format, as well as in a non-fiction, personal essay style of writing.

Enjoy the following paragraphs that are just a small part of the third story that the book contains. [Story #3 - "Craig: Memories of My Brother" (Life don't seem so bad with the right sibling by your side)

BOOK EXCERPT

The Chicken

Craig was a good cook, although I honestly don't know where he got it. My mother was rarely around long enough to do any cooking herself, let alone show any of us how. My older sister was typically the cook, in between the times she ran away from home, and when she wasn't there, the job went to me.

Yet, I remember various occasions when my brother would manage to whip something up out of nothing.

One time in particular, about two days before we first went into the foster care system, my brother fried a whole chicken and made a sumptuous meal.

He'd found the chicken in the trash; apparently someone threw it out because it smelled spoiled. But Criggy washed that chicken and scrubbed it for a long time.

I distinctly remember, we didn't have any seasoning or any flour, but there was some leftover cooking grease, so he simply fried it in that.

He also sneaked in the backdoor of our neighbor's house, right where their pantry was. He knew that because we used to play with their kids, and as wrong as it was, he stole food from them on more than one occasion.

He swiped a couple of potatoes and cooked those along with the chicken; making sure to clean and use the peelings, to help stretch the meal for the four of us. And this was long before potato skins were a thing!

I don't know if it was because we were starving or, like I stated above, he was a really good cook, I only know THAT WAS A DAMN GOOD MEAL, and it wouldn't be the last one he ever made us.

Final Thoughts

If anyone decides to visit Amazon, so they can read the entire story about my brother Craig, you'll be able to fully understand the weightiness of what my brother did, and the closeness of our relationship, even though we would end up not being raised together.

The short span of time we had together as kids when we weren't being raised by the state, or some other strangers passing as kin, me and my siblings were growing up, we basically raising ourselves.

As tough as things were, it's true what I stated in the subtitle of the story about my brother. Life don't seem so bad with the right sibling by your side.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to support me on Amazon, by purchasing a copy of Undamaged: Confessions From the Soul of An Unbroken Black Woman.