Back when I expressed my interest in making clothes as a plus-size pubescent middle schooler
I remember seeing the patterns and cursive. But didn't think much of it, just concluded my mom knew how to sew
Fastforward to present time and it finally dawns on me
This is her old notebook from Haiti in 1982
Seven years before she had her first child
Five years before she was married
Two years before she got to America
I realized I was holding gold
I turn to my mom in shock, "how did you get this book to America?"
Her response "I don't know..."
I could never explain the struggles of growing up as a first-generation born American
Where your parents came to this country to find liberty and prosperity
Abandon their roots and some barely made it out with seeds
In hopes To grow their new home like it use to be
I always wondered why I loved the oldies when they’re all new to me
My mom learned about Luther Vandross and Al Green at the same time as me
My aunt said I'm not really Haitian.
It's not a box I should check since I'm born in America
I can barely trace back my family tree, it's been lost in rural communities and a lack of literacy
But some how I have this book
That made it to America despite my mom's wet feet
Only the diasporas know how to let go of material things just to hold on to their memories.
Flee from their homes to live a day longer
Fighting feverously to get to their destiny
Even if it means adapting to a new community
Tears filled my eyes once I realized I was holding a prize.
I barely have anything from my mom's youth so I just cried
Analyzed her writing, wondering if she knew what the future would bring
Feeling the weight of her schoolbook and her burdens as 20 year old girl in Haiti
She explained she never really wanted to be seamstress
She wanted to be a nurse, but didn't have that type of family support
She needed to go to school for something so she had no choice
But Then God came through
And the struggle was real but she still persevered
She made it to America and reached her dream
I remember when she did a toe-touch when her registered nurse license cleared
I remember her standing strong when her marriage disappeared
I remember when she bought her first home, even when the market was filled with fear
And she's still here
I don't know how this notebook got here, but it's here and so is my family
I'll take the pages and plant it in her garden for abundance
Use her prayers to fortify the branches
And see the produce that prospers as our legacy
