The Miracles of My Mistakes

By T. Smith

MIRACLES of my MISTAKES is about a young womans search for love, acceptance, her true purpose in life, and most importantly, peace. Its an invigorating story about lifes many lessons that will tug at your inner core.

As you embark upon this journey you will learn that you can not find the above-mentioned through men, money, or drugs, it must come from within. Sandras journey has taught her that you must be the maker of your own destiny. Dont give anyone else the power to tell you what your purpose in life is.

Learn to love yourself, trust yourself, and find your lifes purpose for yourself and from that, greatness will emerge. Most importantly, dont let your circumstances or society define who you are. Remember, you have the power to turn your mistakes into miracles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 6, 2006
• ISBN: 9781463465827

T. Smith

T. Smith was born in the early 70’s to parents who didn’t know she was coming and didn’t know what to do with her when she got here.  Forced to find her way through life on her own she fell into some of life’s traps and managed to sidestep others.   Becoming a mother showed her that love is not something you get in return for good grades or ass kissing, but something that naturally arises from an emotional bond to someone you care deeply for.  She vowed to be an exceptional parent throughout all her hardship and struggles and managed to raise 4 of the most well adjusted, well mannered children to walk the earth.   Finding her soul mate later on in life, T. Smith now resides with her family in Southern California…finally reaching her goal of living happily ever after!

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Contents

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A PENNY FOR MY THOUGHTS

MY PAST LIVES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

For Brenda and Misty

This book is dedicated to the Miracles of My Mistakes: Tony-o, Tae-Tae, Mookie, and Keeda.

A very special thanks to my soul sista Kela Moran-Price, Kathy Momii and my One Voice Family, P-LOC, Aunt D, Suzonne, Ros, Shazette, Emerald, Grandma Cavitt, Teacher Hunter, Myesha, Teacher Carmen, Teacher Ferguson, Ms. Hooks, Winona, Cookie, Nika, Rachel, William Letty, Andre, Susan Blunt, Ms. Marks, Sue Ann Lane, Beach$Nut, Tony, Nachelle Bates, Bosco Corey Shirley, my All That girls Tiffany and Jackie, Ms. Mona, Miles Family Daycare, Abby Hurwitz, Amy Shierloh, Shirley Loyd, Ms. Pennington, Monica Laswell, W.I.N.G.S., Ms. Henley, Maeosha, Sherrie Miller, Rochelle Hill, Pinkie and Mariah, Danielle Brown, and my baby that never got to know me Tracy Dion Ferguson 1-12-89 try to find me baby cause I’ve tried to find you.

Much respect and appreciation for those whose talents kept me sane: Jeffery O., Whodini, Earth, Wind, and Fire, MTUME, Chaka Kahn, The Boogie Boys, Norman Conners, Frankie Beverly and Maze, Marvin Gaye, Cameo, Confunkshun, Vonetta McGee, James, Florida, J.J., Thelma, Michael, Wilona, Penny, Freddie Jackson, Alexander O’Neal, Cherrelle, Rene and Angela, Switch, Teddy P., Debarge, The S.O.S. Band, The O’Jays, The Isley Brothers, Howard Hewitt, Jill Scott, Al Green, Morris Day, Eric B. and Rakim (check out my melody), Alice Walker, Phyliss Hyman, Zapp, Roxanne Shante, The Gap Band, Force M D’s, Dana Dane, Willie Hutch, Rudy Ray Moore, Stephanie Mills, Rick James,Teena Marie, Debbie Morgan, Terry McMillian, Donald Goines, Richard Pryor (which way is up?), Keith Sweat, UTFO, Rodney O and Joe Cooley, Rainbow Jordan, Motown and Didi, and, The Chronic.

1

You go get her. Why don’t you go get her? She ain’t my creation. Fuck it, I’ll go get her ass! She ain’t even yours and besides what you plan on tellin’ them white folks to make ‘em just up and give you a baby? You can hardly wipe yo own ass. So what makes you think that you can wipe somebody else’s? All of the sudden a loud booming voice rang out from in the kitchen. Yall some foul muthafuckas and I can smell all yall stankin’ asses from in here. Yall funkier than these chitlins I’m boiling. Fuck all yall! I’m gonna bring that baby home and raise her lil’ ass like she mine and not one of you devils better act like she aint.

With that said, LouElla tapped the large metal spoon against the rim of the huge pot and turned the fire down to a low boil. She walked into the room where the debate had been brewing. Without uttering a word she reached for her Sunday hat and coat, counted out some change from her apron, grabbed her pocketbook, and made her way to the bus stop for her cross-town journey to Hutzel Hospital.

LouElla Fraizer went and got that baby girl, brought her home and raised her as one of her own. She had her christened at Reverend Early’s C.O.G.I.C. as Cassandra Christine Montgomery. LouElla bought her all of the finest clothes and treated her like the precious gift that she was.

Life was a dream for young Sandy. She had her four uncles and their girlfriends for aunts. She had Naana and her card club and Mama Bell (Naana’s partner in crime) whom she loved dearly because she would let her sip her wild turkey when she couldn’t sleep because Uncle Donald and Sheila was fighting.

Soon came the time for Sandra to start school. She often wondered what the hold up was all about. All of her friends had started school the year before and Sandy wanted to go too. She would always ask her Naana when she would get to go. It ain’t time yet. Would always be her answer. In the early mornings Sandra would get up and go straight to the big picture window in the living room and watch her friends walk by on their way to school. Sandra would go ask Naana when she would get to go. Baby it still ain’t time. Is what Naana would always say.

As the weeks went by Sandra frequently overheard Naana engaging in heated conversations over the phone. The discussions would always end with Naana saying, hello, hello, that dirty muthafucka hung up on me. Then she would fix her a drink and go read her bible.

It was getting close to Thanksgiving. Sandra could tell because all the junkies and the working girls kept coming by dropping off foodstamps, washing, dusting, and cleaning out the garage. Doing anything they could do to make Naana tell them too make sure they come back and get a plate. This was Sandra’s favorite time of the year because the house was always full of people partying, drinking, and giving her money.

Sometimes Nanna would let her stay up late to serve drinks and dump ashtrays. Diane (Uncle Gator’s bottom bitch) had taught her how to pour beer, mix drinks, and how to water down the drinks of those who couldn’t handle their liquor. Sandy had gotten hip to most of the loud mouth drunks and watered their drinks down from the get go. She never had to fix Naana a drink. Oh no, Lou Lou (as everyone called her) kept her purple bag in her apron because she didn’t believe in letting everybody drink up the good shit.

One night around a quarter to four in the morning Sandra was thumbing through her Auntie Cookie’s party albums. She chose Signifying Monkey and put it on the record player. Then she dumped her last ashtray, walked around the large oak dining table, and kissed her Naana goodnight. Naana tipped her five dollars and told her to go get some rest so she could make the nine o’clock church bus.

Young Sandy retreated to her bedroom that she shared with her aunts Carol and Debbie. She knew the working girls were of no relationship to her, but what else was she supposed to say when her friends teased her about living in a whorehouse. She climbed onto her top bunk and began counting her tips. The lion was about to kick the monkey’s ass when the door opened and a tall dark figure approached her. Sandra informed the intruder that Carol and Debbie were out for the night. His response was, when you gonna start working Lil’ Mama? Sandra tried to scream as the man grabbed her by her neck and kissed her hard on the mouth. She could taste the cheap drinks she had been mixing all night. He released his grip from her neck and reached under her gown. She screamed again as loud as she could. Suddenly she heard glasses shattering, the record scratch, and then four gunshots. Sandra’s attacker took his last breath between her legs.

Uncle Donald and Naana pulled the lifeless body to the floor. Gator kneeled down over the would be rapist, rolled him over, and removed a switchblade from his lapel. Then slit the man’s throat with his own knife. Sheila emptied his pockets and Kenny and Sam drug his body out of the room. Cookie came in and helped Sandra change her bedding. She didn’t say much just muttering about how much grown pussy it was in the house and asking the Lord why an old ass man would want to fuck a child.

After cleaning up the best they could, Cookie told Sandra to go take a bath. Use some of my bath salts and I’m gonna put on some Al Green to help ease your mind. She said as they walked down the hall. Sandra closed the door and sat on the edge of the tub to run her bath. As the water began to fill the tub, she undressed and wondered how love can make you come home early and make you stay out all night long.

She got into the tub and drifted off to sleep. Awakened by her Naana tapping on the door telling her to get some rest so she could make the nine o’clock church bus.

Sandra lived her twisted life of pimps, housework, hoes, and church and saw nothing wrong with her sorted household. Of course she experienced the occasional sniggle or whisper from the ladies on their porches or perched in their windows as she walked by. Naana had always told her that they were just jealous because she never invited them to her parties. Fuck them old bitches! She would say. They just mad cause they can’t drank my liquor and try to win my money. Armed with that bit of knowledge, Sandra would prance on by the old biddies knowing that they just wanted what her Naana had.

When Sandra awoke one cold December morning she heard Naana conversing in the living room. Only this wasn’t ordinary conversation. Naana wasn’t cussing and loud talking. She was quite refined and spoke properly. By this Sandra could tell that the visitors had to be white. She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, walked down the hallway, and peeked around the corner. From where she stood she could see two older white ladies both with silver hair placed in a loose bun at the crown of the heads. Each wore a dark gray knit suit with white ruffle breasted shirts and black hushpuppy shoes. Sandra could also hear a third voice that belonged to a man, but she couldn’t see his face. She walked back down the long hallway, through Uncle Donald and Sheila’s room, and around to the kitchen. Keeping her back to the fridge, she stood on her tippie toes hoping to get a glimpse of the man in Naana’s mirrored cross that he sat across from. To her surprise the man was ‘the man’. A shocked Sandra lost her balance and knocked one of Naana’s Jesus magnets to the floor. As she knelt down to pick it up she overheard Naana clear her voice and say, I sent her around to my sister’s house to get some learning until we can put her in formal school. Mabel used to teach kindergarten up to the third grade back in Tennessee. She has been such a big help with Sandra while we wait on the paperwork from her parents. Parents? What was Naana talking about? Shaking the thought from her head Sandra took Naana’s hint and eased out the back door. She ran through the alley and onto the next block, down Sussex Avenue to Mama Bell’s house. She arrived scared and out of breath. Sandra stumbled up the steps to the service porch and frantically beat on the old aluminum screen door.

Mama Bell made her way to the rear of the house. Loudly inquiring about who in the hell was interrupting her stories, bamming on her door like the fucking police. She abruptly opened the door ready to snatch a knot in the devil’s ass only to find her scared niece huddled on her steps like a little rascal. What the matter with you girl? You sitting here shaking like your Uncle Teddy when he need a fix. Come on in here and tell me what’s wrong. Said Mama Bell, hugging Sandra escorting her inside. Sandra felt relief in the comfort of Mama Bell’s arms. She followed the four foot nine, red boned, red haired, robust woman down the hall to the sitting room where the tricks paid their money and waited to be sent around to Lou Lou’s. Sandra stood by as Mama Bell situated herself in the floral upholstered highback chair. As soon as she looked settled Sandy nestled herself into the plump woman’s lap. She rested her head on her shoulder, closed her eyes, and inhaled the familiar mixture of cashmere bouquet soap and sweet honesty perfume. Sandra ran down the whole story about how the white folks had come to their house that morning and about Naana fussing on the phone with some man that kept hanging up on her. That damn Luther! Mama Bell mumbled. Who is Luther? Sandra desperately wanted to know. I’m gonna let LouElla tell you. Was Mama Bell’s answer. Sandra knew he must have been somebody because Mama Bell called Naana by her name and she didn’t do that often.

A knock at the door made Sandra jump. Remembering why she had ran to Mama Bell’s house in the first place she walked around the immense cherry desk by the fireplace and got a pencil and some paper while Mama Bell went to answer the door. She numbered her paper from one to ten and listened intently to the footsteps progress in her direction. Just as she thought their guests happened to be the same trio that had been at Naana’s house. They appeared to be pleased to see Sandra hard at work. Mama Bell lead them to the living room and left her in the sitting room.

She couldn’t tell how long she had been left alone, but her tummy was telling her that it was close to lunchtime. Sandra folded her paper and made her way to the living room. She was met in the hallway by Mama Bell, the social workers, and ‘the man’. To her surprise each greeted her kindly and exited Mama Bell’s home. What they wanted Mama B? Sandra asked after they left. They just want to know when we gonna get you in real school, but they say since we teaching you something they gonna leave you alone until your next birthday. So don’t you worry. Me and Lou Lou is gonna work it all out.

Sandra was enrolled in school after the New Year set in. To everyone’s surprise she did exceptionally well. Over the years she excelled in English and Language Arts.

Although she could count the hell outta some money and was quick to add up the dots on dice and dominos, cracker math (as she called it) was not her forte but Sandra did the best she could passing each grade with ease year after year.

2

Get dressed while I go write your prescription, but I want you to know that I can’t keep seeing you like this. Said the doctor as she left the room. Sandra waited for the door to close completely, dressed quickly, and ransacked the examination room for whatever she could find. She didn’t give a fuck about no State I.D. or parental permission slip.

She didn’t need permission to do anything else. She figured why ask now? Would her mother (whom she just met) take time off work to help her recently acquired eleven year old daughter get her much needed prescription for penicillin to get rid of the STD that she had contracted from some guy that had taken her to Eltorito’s? Probably not, because she had to work Monday through Friday from six in the morning until five in the evening and she had to rest on Saturday and Sunday so she could burn herself out week after week.

Sandra moved quickly shoving syringes, alcohol pads, and cotton balls down her pants and in her pockets. She knew