My Nana’s Love
It had been almost three months since my husband left, taking my youngest son with him, and leaving me and my daughter with an eviction notice on the door. I did what I could, in those three months, to make sure I provided shelter for my daughter. Then the day came that I could no longer provide that shelter. I called my parents and they wouldn’t help. That was the day I realized my nana’s love for me was stronger than my parents.
It was warm, bright and sunny that June day. I was feeling helpless and worthless, the day I had to call my parents for help. I had spent the last three months staying here and staying there just so I could provide shelter. I had grown tired of bouncing around from house to house, so I decided to call my parents. Before I picked up the cold, dirty phone receiver, I thought, if I asked my mom and dad for bus money to get their granddaughter to a safe, stable environment, they couldn’t possible say no. I dialed the 10 digit number for California and asked if they could send me bus money so I could go up to Pennsylvania while I figured out what I was going to do about getting my son back. They told me no. With tears streaming down my face, I hung up the phone. I tried to compose myself before I picked up the phone again. This time I called my grandmother.
“Nana” I said sobbing uncontrollably. “I called my parents, and they won’t help me.” “What do you mean?” Nana said. “I asked them for bus money to come up there, and they told me no” I said. “How much is a bus ticket”? Nana asked. “It’s $50.00” I said. She told me she would send it Western Union.
When I arrived, the bus station was filled with bustling people, it smelled like fumes and I heard my nana, , dressed in her creased polyester pants and her sprayed hair pulled up in a bun, call my name. She had a big smile on her face. She hugged me and helped carry my daughter, who was sleepy, to the car.
When we arrived at the house, she...