Grandma's Girl

When I was a child I had a neighbor, Dr. Ouida Abbott, who listened to me when I talked. She chose to spend time with me. She taught me how to tie my shoes, make taffy, bake bread, crochet, tend a flower bed and to play cards. Because Dr. Abbott listened to my stories, I thought my stories were worth telling. Now that I am an adult, I have a need to share what Dr. Abbott gave to me so many years ago. I went to the county correctional center for women and asked for a group of twelve inmates. I wanted to hear their stories and to give each of them a chance to be heard. I wanted a circle of women to have the chance to be together and to learn how much it means to each of us when we tell our stories and have them received by people who choose to listen well.

We have fun together. We laugh, we cry and sometimes we sit together in silence, allowing a story to be present and uninterrupted even after the telling. I am amazed at the willingness of the class members to share from their lives and from their hearts. It seems like the stories have been waiting at the door, just looking for a chance to run outside. We meet together for 32 class sessions. We read a novel, journal and do in-class writing assignments. Each woman writes three stories that she polishes and prepares for the final performance. I bring in local professional actors who do a readers theater of the work submitted by the women. All of us feel so proud, so gifted, so grateful on the performance day.

Here is a story by Brenda, a member of my first class:

When I was five years old I slept with my grandma. I was always a grandma’s girl. She loved me. She took me places, held me in her lap. She was proud of me. One night the house caught on fire. I still remember that night like it was yesterday. My grandma opened the window, picked me up and put me outside. She told me to run; she was going to get my little brother and sister. A neighbor man grabbed me up and carried me across the street to his porch where I watched our house burning, burning. My house burnt down. The roof fell in on my grandma and my brother and sister. That’s the night I lost everything except my mama. The firefighters and ambulance drivers were holding my mama in the front yard. She was screaming, “My babies! My babies!” She was trying to go back in the house for them. I could hear my grandma screaming too.

Uh-huh.My grandma woke up in the night, lifted me up and saved my life. She cared more about my life than her own. I am a grandma’s girl. Always have been.

Dr. Abbott gave to me the gift of her time and her listening ear. It made such a difference for me. I have never enjoyed anything more than this experience of passing on to others what Dr. Abbott gave to me. We all have a sacred story to tell and we all have time enough for listening.