Five Minutes. Go.
Heroes. Were do I begin?? My life is made up of so many heroes; of past, of present, of the ones I know, of the ones I love, of the ones I have never met.
But, this face comes to my mind today.
My grandmother. My Mama. Hettie is her given name… but known to most as Ann. She is strong and rough, and can out work any young strap. She is clever with her words and witty beyond measure. The bar she sets is high, for herself and the ones she loves, for she is my hero.
Everyday she feeds her birds, her chickens, her ducks, her geese, her peacocks, her bantys, her guineas, and her 2 emus; Myrtle and Lucky. Her poultry is her purpose. Morning, noon and night, she cares for her flock. Dirt under her fingernails; sweat on her brow; her hair, black as coal, wildly blowing in the wind; nevertheless, her deep revelon-red lips peek through her weathered skin; she is a woman, more woman than I, for she is my hero.
She loves the best she knows how. Her love is deep and honest, but fear and vulnerability creep. Loyalty is her vice and compassion her saving grace. She loves with her food, the kitchen always beckoning, the tablecloth worn, the oven hot. In her kitchen, I want to spend hours sitting a midst the smell of old newspapers and among the floating dust, she is my comfort, for she is my hero.
She made me butcher my own chicken once. Because “every woman needs to know how to butcher a chicken”, she said. I was nineteen years old, and it is a memory I will keep close unto my grave. In my hands she has placed a legion of tools; hammers and sanders, rakes and brooms, needles and clothespins, confidence and self-worth, love for my neighbor and tenacity in my spirit. I love her, for she is my hero.
Meet my grandmother, Hettie Ann. My hero.
Linked up today to Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Fridays