Chapter 8 #3
Cyren continued passing out plates, noticing the people who’d been by weekly, the ones who smiled when they spoke, the ones who avoided eye contact, and even the ones who stayed just to talk to her a little longer to catch her up on all the happenings of their day.
It was the small things, and Cyren was grateful to experience them all.
After the rush slowed and the line thinned out, Cyren stepped away from the table, tossing her gloves in the trash and grabbing a bottle of water.
She watched as Mama Dot moved toward the back, checking in on one of the older women seated at a table, her hand gently resting on her shoulder as she spoke.
The way people softened around Mama Dot, the way she listened, and the way she poured into them made Cyren emotional.
It’s as if all guards being held up came crashing down in her presence.
It was comforting in a way that Cyren missed.
That motherly love that you felt without Mama Dot even touching you.
Cyren walked over once Mama Dot finished, leaning against the counter nearby.
“How’d you do this?” she asked, her tone inquisitive but genuine. “What made you want to start a pantry?”
She’d read the about page on the website, but wanted to know the full story. She knew people gave out of the kindness of their hearts, but there had to be a motive behind it. Cyren was curious. Mama Dot looked at her for a second before turning her attention back to the tray she was covering.
“Life just became too much,” she simply said. “Sometimes that’s all it takes.”
Cyren rubbed her glossed lips together, not sure how to respond to such a vague answer.
Mama Dot glanced at her with a soft smile.
“I used to cook like this for my own house. It’d be way more than we needed, and sometimes, I’d cook more on purpose.
” Her eyes softened at the memory. “At first, it was just me sending plates out around the neighborhood to families I knew could use a bit of help or a warm meal. Or to that little boy with younger siblings who had, on more than one occasion, gotten caught stealing food from the local grocery store.”
There was an older sibling somewhere in the world, still making sure the youngest were taken care of. Still taking on the role as a parent when they were still a child and needed guidance themselves.
Mama Dot kept reminiscing, going down memory lane. “It didn’t take long before folks started depending on the meals. Kids were knocking at my door before and after school. Women who were too tired to cook, but still trying, showed up. Older folks came through when their stamps ran low.”
Some days, she couldn’t believe how far she’d come.
“The need was already there,” she said. “I just made space for it.”
Cyren nodded, taking that in.
“So you just… kept going?”
“I had to,” Mama Dot replied. “Once you see it, and the change, you can’t unsee it.”
She moved past Cyren, grabbed a towel, and wiped her hands, then continued.
“I cleaned out my dining room first, then my spare room. I started keeping toiletries, things folks needed but didn’t always have. Then people started bringing stuff. I received so many donations, and the word continued to spread.”
Cyren glanced around the space again, seeing it differently now. There are truly some good people in this world, she thought.
“Then, this kind woman and her husband gifted me this place,” Mama Dot said, lightly gesturing around them. “And I made sure I honored it.”
Cyren hesitated before asking her next question. “Sorry if I’m being too nosy, but did something happen for you to do all of this?” she asked. “Like, not just feed people, but really go the extra mile. You could’ve stopped at just serving food.”
Mama Dot nodded. “Mhm. I could’ve, but I knew I had a deeper purpose, thanks to my son.”
She quieted for a second, gathering her thoughts. “He needed more than I could give him at the time. I was working, surviving, doing what I thought was enough. But sometimes, it’s not.”
Cyren swallowed.
“He got caught up and made a bad decision that changed a lot of lives, including his own.”
“Is he... still with us?” Cyren mumbled, almost afraid to ask.
“Yeah, he’s still here. But the person’s life he took while drunk driving isn’t.”
Bile rose in Cyren’s throat. Any mention of a car crash, reckless driving, or the police made her sick to her stomach. The first year after Nicole passed away, she hated stopping at red lights and still tried to avoid them as best as she could.
Any words or pictures linked to how she lost her mother were a trigger, and parts of her were still angry. Cyren felt a hint of anger towards Mama Dot’s son, even though she didn’t know him. Grief... it had no boundaries.
Mama Dot had worked two jobs for most of her life as a cafeteria worker by day and an office cleaner by night. Her husband lost his life early, before her son was a teenager, to mistaken identity. An arrest had been made, but the damage had already been done.
Over the years, she watched the block shift. There was more violence, more broken homes, more kids raising themselves. Mama Dot felt like she was living in a twilight zone, and she had to do something, anything, to keep going.
“I’m sure that was so much for you to take on,” Cyren said, sadly.
“It certainly was, but you know what they say about life? When it gives you lemons, you make the best lemonade you can.”
Reciting the idiom lightened the gloomy mood. There’d been court dates, long drives to places Mama Dot didn’t know the routes to, phone calls that came with time limits, and bonds broken. Her pain aged her without permission and taught her to keep going anyway. What else could she do?
“My baby needed somebody to slow him down,” Mama Dot continued. “Needed somebody to sit with him, talk to him, see what he was really going through. And I thought I was doing that… but I was tired. Tired of working and trying to keep everything together.”
Cyren felt it more than she understood it.
Mama Dot gave a small, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Life doesn’t always give you the time you think you have. That’s why you have to live each day like it’s your last.”
Cyren’s chest tightened, while Mama Dot reached for a towel and folded it.
“So when everything happened, I had a choice. I could sit in that grief, or I could do something with it.”
Her eyes lifted to Cyren’s, wanting her to really feel what she was saying.
“I chose to pour it somewhere. Yes, losing my son to the system broke something in me, but it also awakened something deeper,” Mama Dot admitted with the utmost strength. “I figured if I couldn’t save mine, I’d do everything I could to reach somebody else’s.”
The pantry wasn’t just built out of kindness. It was built from loss, regret, and love that never found its way where it was supposed to, so Mama Dot found another place for it. She had a testimony meant for Cyren to hear.
“That’s why I don’t turn anyone away,” Mama Dot added. “You never know what somebody standing in front of you is just one conversation away from.”
Cyren hadn’t heard truer words. Gently, Mama Dot rubbed her arm, feeling everything she hadn’t said and was holding onto.
“Don’t let whatever you’re going through change you, hear? The you outside of your grief. You’re stronger than it even if some days it doesn’t feel like it.”
Everything Cyren wanted to say was held hostage in her sore throat and watery eyes. Mama Dot didn’t realize it, but she had just healed a piece of Cyren that hadn’t asked to be.
Nodding, Cyren cleared her throat. “I...I won’t.”
“Good. Because you’re way too gorgeous and have so much life and love to give and receive. Always remember to do what’s best for you, no matter how anyone else feels. Don’t let nobody take that light from you. Not even yourself. We ain’t letting the devil win a thing over here.”
“Amen,” Cyren agreed, smiling.
A commotion near the door caught their attention.
A young woman stepped inside, wearing clothes that didn’t seem to belong to her, hanging off her frame.
Her movements were a bit unsteady as her eyes scanned the room for someone in particular.
Cyren watched as one of the workers immediately approached her, speaking softly while guiding her toward a chair.
“She doesn’t talk to anybody but Saje,” Mama Dot said quietly. “She won’t even stay if she’s not here.”
Cyren’s brows pulled together. “Is she okay?”
Mama Dot softly exhaled. “Some days are better than others. Some days, I gotta hunt her down just so she can sit down and remember who she is.”
Looking back at the woman, Cyren wondered what her story was. Everyone here had one. It didn’t matter if you were here to serve or to be served; they were all there for a reason.
The conversation between her and Mama Dot sparked something in Cyren.
It was a small flame, but big enough to light her mind and send it into overdrive.
For months, even before moving back to KC, she had been thinking about what else was out there for her.
Seeing how Mama Dot showed up not just for herself but for others, put a battery in her back.
Cyren was re-evaluating who she truly was, beyond how losing her mom had changed her.
There was only one man in Cyren’s life who had poured into her and been a constant presence.
She hated that her dad couldn’t be that person, but she was beyond grateful for her Uncle Tony.
How one brother grew up to be a complete waste of life while the other hadn’t, would always be a mystery to Cyren.
Tony just happened to call and check on her as she was leaving the pantry.
It was well into the afternoon now, and all she wanted to do was take a shower and a nap.
“Hey, Uncle Tony.” Cyren set her bag in the passenger seat before starting the engine. Plugging her phone into the charger, his voice drifted through the speakers.