MissMosi
August 31, 2017
Angel
June 6, 2017 I was dressed in white sitting next to my to my dementia riddled maternal grandmother. I was in the stands of Los Angeles Southwest College attending my mothers first graduation. My grandmother was crying, laughing, and repeating herself but overall in good spirits. My Aunt was sitting on my other side breath smelling of beer. She looked pretty and although she suffers from Agoraphobia she was right there in the stands. My five siblings and I (who all live right under the poverty line) had managed to meet in LA to see my mom graduate. Ironically my youngest brother had a seizure so they all left to take him to the hospital. I stayed to support my mom. Instead of spending the day with my siblings as I had planned I was wedged next to a frail elder and an ex crack addict. My maternal bloodline is full of character.
The commencement was a string of poetry over music. Maxine waters spoke, the Latina Valedictorian spoke, we danced and I constantly wiped tears from my heavily painted face. My grandmother looked over at me, clutched my hand and told me “ Mosi you are a poet and an intellect”. Her words put me in a somber state. I began to process her view of me right there in the stands. After all the plastic surgery I've gotten, the heavy makeup I applied daily, and my career as a cosmetologist I was being complimented for my brain. She changed my perception in a simple sentence right there on the bleachers.
My grandmother couldn't possibly know that I had poetry written in odd places all over my apartment. How could this woman look at her granddaughter who dedicated seven years of her life to sex work and somehow know there was a brain attached to the silicone filled body? After I accepted my new titles I enrolled in school because any reasonable intellect needed formal education.
At 28 I am attending college for the first time. Its been three weeks and I have been in battle with the elements to survive school. My financial aid got audited. I spent four hours requesting a transcript and two hours getting it submitted right before the one day deadline. Due to the lack of financial aid I had no books the first week of school. I had to finance a laptop after I learned that the computers in the library were not compatible to my classes. I borrowed the money to put the downpayment on a laptop. I'm not quite sure how I will pay it off. I was harassed by my Evil male boss resulting in my unemployment. My refrigerator is quite bare, and its been very hard to sleep.
Aug 30,2017 it began raining in Atlanta. The remnants of Hurricane Harvey brought the waterworks to the city. I was driving to school praying I didn't get stopped by the police because I have not been able to afford car insurance. A woman in a blue shirt with a cane, a traveling cart, and an umbrella waved to me. I rolled down the window to see what she wanted. She asked me if I could help her get through the gate so she could exit the apartment complex. The gate was not opening up for walking pedestrians and I was the only car in sight. I asked her if she was trying to get on the train across the street? She said yes and I offered her a ride. I couldn't let an elder walk in the rain with a bad leg and a cart. She told me she would be fine. After I assured her that it was no problem she accepted my offer. She had a calming voice and kept apologizing for moving slow. The woman got in the car and the first thing she said was that she would have to swing her leg to get into the vehicle. I automatically went into holistic Mosi mode and recommended that she begin ingesting Tumeric root to ward off inflammation. She was receptive to my herbal suggestions. She was in high spirits although she had two herniated discs, and was preparing for surgery. She kept telling me that she was just happy to be alive and wanted to go to church in the rain in celebration of waking up that day. I told her about the evils of improper diet. She proudly told me about how much weight she had lost now that she only eats the Meals on Wheels that she receives as a senior citizen. I wrote down the names of herbs and my phone number once we parked at the train station.
The woman who smiled from her eyes to her teeth, told me she Loved Me, embraced me and then she kissed me on the cheek. When she got close to me I could smell a soft sweet perfume. The fragrance, the positive outlook, and the incessant smiling made me fall in love with this strange woman. She told me she loved me at least five more times and then exited saying shed later tell her daughter “she met an angel”. On the drive to school I replayed the scene in my head. I have always regarded kisses on the cheek as good luck. How could I complain when this woman would walk in the rain happily? I felt a magical spell of love swirling in my car. My situation no longer felt bleak. I called my mother and told her the story in detail. We both agreed that the encounter was a good omen. When I told my mother the part in the story where the stranger called me an angel my mother said matter-of-factly “No she was an Angel”. We ended the conversation by agreeing not to complain. If you don't have anything nice to say you should not say anything at all. Complaining is the equivalent of slapping life in the face. If a disabled senior can be grateful to walk in the rain surely I can have gratitude while I fulfill my task of being a Poet and an Intellect.