Kaya and I talk a lot about legacy—the strong women we come from and admire. Working together on pieces about the matriarchs in her family inspired me to reflect on the women in mine.
what are the things we carry
down through the years, through our family lines?
those intangible, untouchable somethings that pass,
like currents,
through our words
our stories
through our blood and bones
they are the rhythm of our laughter, or
the movements our conversations create
they show up in frowns and furrowed brows—in those things we do when we’re deep in thought
do I smile like Ann did? my missouri-made grandmother, my mother’s mother
The Glamorous One
whose perfumed memory I’ve held tight to since I was six,
when they told me she’d passed on.
do I cross my legs like Grandma Chichi? my dad’s radiant mom
she stayed and lived and died in panama when he left
I haven’t heard her voice in so long
I do still hear it though,
in my head
or hear the shape of it, at least—faint through a crackling phone line,
saying …
… saying
words I never can quite remember.
but she pressed so much goodness onto me,
that the feeling of those conversations
it never leaves
do I take my tea like Estella?
do I laugh a little like her daughter Blanche?
do I tilt my head like Aunt Birdie, or Tía Rosie?
like Chichi’s mother Sara? like Lenora?
these women knitted our family destinies with their convictions
molded us with their stubborn love
created life with their choices, promise with their courage
determining us
divining us
conjuring us
through the powers of their strength
these women, my women
they crossed oceans
color lines
picket lines
they fought and loved and lost—for me
for the possibility of me.
what do I carry of these women
who made me who I am?