by Alex Fitzsimmon

Created on: June 12, 2009

The yellow walls were faded and cracks like spider veins ran from one wall to the next. It was a huge kitchen filled with sunlight from the many windows, and I would sit on a stool at the huge wooden table and watch mama roll out dough for biscuits or a cobbler. The bacon sizzled in the cast iron skillet and if I was good she may let me cut the biscuits with the empty jelly jar she used. Mama would smile at me and depending on what she was preparing she may allow me to lick the spoon from the cake she was beating or oat meal cookies or even her corn bread that had a sweetness about it. Mama was beautiful with her honey brown skin that was smooth as silk and her hazel eyes that could be filled with laughter and could just as easily spark with anger if some one rubbed her the wrong way. I enjoyed the Saturday mornings when mama would do her baking and make her pot of gumbo for the Saturday night crowd. Our kitchen had an aroma of apples, cinnamon and sugar. She would work all day and in the evening take a bath and dress up in her red dress. She would look like a movie star or a singer. And no one could sing better than her or at least that's what I always thought when I was young. I thought mama was magic and if I held on to her - well her magic would rub off on me. Mama would sing Stormy Weather and every time she sang it, I was mesmerized by her strong deep voice. I never wanted to leave that kitchen and I told myself I would never would.

The kitchen is where I learned my ABCs and I learned how to count with the lima beans she kept in a large glass jar. I learned much in that old kitchen from the many people that came asking mama for help with their finances or love life. Mama would give then advice and they would pay whatever they could. Sometime they paid with coins, wrinkled bills or sometimes a chicken or a bundle of fabric that mama would fashion a dress from or a shirt for me. There were times Mama wouldn't take a dime from the people that came to her for help. My oldest sister Delia said mama was a conjure woman - said she could remove spells and weave white magic. My other sister Crystal said mama was just a fake and couldn't do anything. I was only eight but I never believed what Crystal said because the same people came back and thanked mama for her help. I once asked mama if she was some witch and did she do magic and mama sat me down and laughed and then simply told me, " I don't do anything, it's them believing that gives them their own

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