Ma Chérie, Je M'aime Beaucoup
A favorite pastime of my childhood was riding in the car and driving up the hill, of Longview Ave, to my great-grandmother's house in Akron, Ohio. It is a hill that will test the most adventurous person's faith in God and one’s breaks. For little Myriah it was hearing the drumming of the car tires on the brick road that I had imagined my great-grandfather lay. Riding uphill the tops of the trees would act as a Broadway curtain opening before the act, but with a pinpoint light shining through yellow and green, only to reveal my great-grandmother's house.
Eight-year-old Myriah would race up those concrete stairs with high knees combined with the graceful transition to those soft steps on those on a wooden porch. Those steps on the wooden steps would grow softer not because I knew I would get fussed at for the loud stomping, but because I was storing my energy for the final stretch. Once at the top, you could either look down your nose to see your opponent's struggle as you stood with pride, or you could finish strong by flinging the door open and kicking your shoes off behind the glorious pistachio green chair before entering the house. Always choose the latter, mon Chérie, because pride is a sobering realization of self a downfall where one can only blame themselves, but never truly do. I would always make sure to smile at my Grandmothers Karen’s portrait to acknowledge her spirit as that was the only picture, I would see of her throughout my childhood. After doing so the race was back on sprinting through the arch of the dining room that housed a cherry oak dining table that was the center of all our family gatherings but now became my greatest enemy as it blocked a direct path to my great-grandmother. If you were fast, and well ahead of your winded opponents you could pivot right which seemed to have more opticals on its path because at the end stood a China cabinet that housed a crystal set that was not only gifted but used at her wedding. You also had to run at a slight angle inward, or your elbows would pay the price. Or you could continue straight with a slight lean to the left which had a long narrow white chiffonier that seemed missing a mirror. By taking this route you could cut off the others with a wide step of your right foot that could help propel you forward.
Once you got to the kitchen you would see a table covered with no less than three Bibles (all different translations i.e. ), a dictionary, and the Akron Beacon Journal’s crossword puzzle that was stuffed with her bills in a retired gold napkin holder. My great-grandmother sat with not only beauty and grace but adjacent to the table awaiting your embrace. Her arms are just as grand and beautiful as the peacock's tail. In many ways, her embrace has been for protection and comfort for whoever needed it. No matter your place in the race the hug always felt the same.
Home.
