History Mixed With Peace.
“Papa, do you really need all of this?” I groan, lifting the third box in a row. “No wonder you can’t find anything. You’re like a keepsake hoarder.”
“I guess things have gotten away from me over the years,” he says, pulling a stack of photos from a box. “But I think it’s so worth it. Here, come look at these.”
I place the box I was holding down before sidestepping a few others until I’m by his side.
He handed me a photo of a young girl who had my eyes and smile, and I instantly recognized her as my mother.
Of course, I’d seen pictures of her before.
There were a few downstairs on the wall, but this was the first time I was seeing one of her so young. She looked about thirteen or fourteen.
“Mom…”
“Yeah,” he nods, handing me a few more pictures.
All of them of my mom when she was a preteen at what seemed to be a summer camp.
“That’s Anaias. She was always so happy and full of life.
I remember how excited she was when she finally got to go to that camp that summer.
She had always dreamed of being an actress, so going to drama camp was like a dream come true. ”
“She sounds like she was a lot of fun,” I chuckle, to which he nods.
“Yeah, she was a ball of sunshine, much like you and Serenity,” he admits, motioning for me to take the box in front of him.
“I know I rarely talked about her when you were growing up, but I think it’s about time I share my memories of her again.
So, whatever you want to know about her and her life, I’ll tell you. ”
“Okay,” I smile. “I would love that. Thank you.”
He spent the next few hours recounting all the fondest memories he had of my mom.
I laughed, I cried, and in the end, I felt all the love in every story he shared.
He even told me about my mom’s first love, who also happened to be my biological father.
When we realized that we were doing more talking than cleaning, we decided to finish organizing another day.
So with my box of my mom’s memories in hand, I followed him out of the room, and we headed to the kitchen to order lunch. There weren’t many restaurants that delivered around where my dad stayed, so we settled on plate lunches from a local soul food spot.
As we were waiting for the food to arrive, I took that time to finally look through the box of my mom’s things.
There were enough pictures to make a photo book about her life, and I made a mental note to do that soon.
I also found a few certificates and awards from her youth.
I paused when my eyes landed on an envelope labeled with nothing but a heart.
Inside were about ten photos of my mom, about eighteen, and a man who shared the same eyes and smile as me.
In most of them, she was hugging the guy, smiling and laughing as if it were the happiest moment of her life. In the rest, they looked madly in love, almost as if what they had was deeper than anyone knew. I was curious about their full story, and wondered if my Dad knew. So, I asked him.
“Dad,” I say, showing him the photo. He cocks his head to the side, squinting his eyes.
“I remember taking these,” he smiled, nodding. “I believe this was a bit after they first met.”
I flip it over and read the words scribbled across the back out loud:
Freshman Year - October 1994
Anaias Morris Trenton Green
“That’s right! This was during their Freshman Year of college,” he states. “Those two were inseparable. Best friends for a few years until they started dating. I honestly thought they were going to get married, but unfortunately, they never got to that point.”
“What happened?”
“Anaias got sick after having you,” he said, a sad expression on his face.
My heart skipped a beat, and he must’ve sensed my anxiety peaking, so he took my hand and squeezed gently, calming me.
“Her sickness had nothing to do with you, sweetheart. It had everything to do with the lack of care she received from the hospital when she went in for a checkup a few months later. A lot of things were overlooked, and her pain wasn’t taken seriously, and then… ”
He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. I knew all too well about the stories and horrors of Black women and their pain not being taken seriously. I hated that my mom wasn’t able to receive the care she deserved, but I knew that she was at peace now and no longer hurting.
I hugged my dad, and he patted me, thanked me. I then told him that he didn’t have to continue talking about the past if he wasn’t up for it, but he insisted.
So, I listened as he continued to tell me more about my mom and my bio dad’s relationship.
He made sure that I knew how much they loved me, and how much they would’ve wanted to be here with me.
He told me more stories about how she was when they were younger and answered any questions I had about her.
“So, whatever happened to Trenton?” I asked after he’d gone through every story he could remember.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he got up from the table and exited the room, leaving me confused.
A few moments later, he returns with another box.
My eyebrows furrow as he quickly sifts through it before pulling out an old newspaper.
On the front page was a news article from May 2000 about two brothers who tragically died in a car accident on their way back from the younger brother’s college graduation.
Below the photo of the two brothers smiling was the names Trenton and Terrence Green.
“A few years after your mom passed, he did as well,” my dad explained as I continued to read the article.
“I remember it like it was yesterday because the story of him and his brother's passing shocked the nation. His brother was a college football superstar, and he was set to be the No. 1 draft pick in 2000. Even I was rooting for him.” He sighs, reclaiming his seat beside me. “Trenton didn’t have the best relationship with his family, so no one ever fought me when it came time to get custody of you. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. ”
I let the mountain of information settle in my brain as I sink back into the chair.
I was so desperate to keep digging for more information, to reach out and see why none of them had ever even tried to contact me after all these years, even though they knew I existed.
There was a part of me that felt hurt, but also annoyed.
However, it was only a small part of me.
The bigger part of me, of my brain…my heart, didn’t care about things I couldn’t change.
Deep down in my heart, I knew that nothing I learned would change the fact that I already have a loving family.
Maybe one day in the future, I’ll decide to go searching for the answers to the questions I had, but for right now, I was fine just knowing that I had been raised in a house of love.
I was fine knowing that I was still surrounded by so much love.
I could stress about the past and what-ifs another day.
I smile, taking my dad’s hands in mine. He smiles apologetically at me, but I shake my head as I wrap my arms around him.
He does the same, and I melt into his embrace.
He was warm and comforting, and I always felt so loved whenever he was around.
I had so much love in my heart for him, and I hope he could always feel it.
“Papa, I don’t care about the past,” I tell him. “Am I sad that I never had a chance to know my mom or the man who was my biological father? Sure, but I’m thankful that I’ve always had you in my life. You’re my dad. You’re my family. Always and forever.”
“Oh, how I love you, Pip,” he chuckled, calling me by a childhood nickname I haven’t heard in years. “You’ve grown to be such an amazing woman, and I love you to the moon and back. I’m blessed to be loved by you and your siblings. Y’all are my heart.”
“Wow, Pip?” I chuckle as we break apart. He smiles lovingly. “I haven’t heard that one in years.”
“Well, someone’s gotta keep the nickname alive since your brother up and moved away,” he jokes.
“Ugh, he always made me so mad when he called me that when we were little,” I reminisced. “It’s not my fault, I took my height after my mom, and he and Zaiyre took after you and Uncle Rick.”
The nickname Pip (short for Pipsqueak) had stuck with me since middle school, when my siblings shot up like beanstalks, while I grew like molasses.
Darren was 6’5 by the time he got to high school, and Zaiyre was 5’11 by the time she turned 15.
Meanwhile, I’d stopped growing taller once I hit 5’7 at 17.
I might be the middle child, but I hated standing in the middle of those two.
“Aww, you know we love you, shorty,” he continues to tease, and laughter bubbles between us.
Being around my dad was always a good time, and I’m so glad that I took the day off to come spend it with him. We spent the next few hours going down memory lane as we ate the food that had finally been delivered.
A little after 3:30, I walked down to the corner to get my niece and nephews off the bus. They were excited to see me, and I stayed another 20 minutes just to hang out with them before getting on the road back to New South.
Kay had called about an hour ago to ask if I could pick up Morgan from her doctor’s appointment because she didn’t think she’d be done with deliveries by then. I assured her that I would, and she thanked me before going back to work.
It took me less than an hour to arrive at the hospital where Mo’s appointment was being held, and I was even early.
So, I parked and made my way inside to wait for her.
It wasn’t as packed as I thought it would be, considering that it was hard to find a parking spot, but I guess that made sense, seeing as this was the main lobby and each floor had its own designated waiting rooms, so maybe that’s where everyone was.
“Hi, may I help you?” A woman asked as soon as I approached the receptionist’s desk.