Meet Aisha

It all started one rainy Friday night last year: April 8, 2011. And before you ask, of course I remember the day–my life was going to change forever, and I wasn’t the slightest bit happy about it. I was going to make SURE that I remembered this day. Heck, I couldn’t even stand my brothers Jamal and Baby Boy, and now my parents were bringing my grandfather from Africa to come live with us? I mean, I’d never met the man before in my life!! Okay, that’s not completely true, maybe when I was a tiny baby, but I am 10 now! That is ….a lot of years of knowing nothing about this guy except for short, mandatory long distance phone calls my parents made the entire family sit through every Sunday afternoon. Even then, I had nothing to talk to him about. “How is school? Are you taking first in every class? You know you have to become a doctor, engineer, lawyer or business woman when you grow up, ehn? I hope you are respecting your parents…children of nowadays are so lacking in respect…” After hearing this script a bajillion times, it got old! Suzie down the street didn’t have to live with her Nana. No, HER nana lives in a nice old people’s home outside of town and sent her home-made brownies once a month. Suzie didn’t have to wait hand and foot on every adult that came into her house. I felt like my parents gave birth to me just so I could be their maid. Why did I have to make my bed and theirs too? And don’t even get me started about the TV remote. Really Mom, all you have to do is lean over and pick the thing up!. Is it absolutely necessary for you to call me from all the way upstairs because you don’t want to take the 3 steps from your chair to get the remote? I have rights you know! This is America! But I digress. Maybe I was just being a wuss, but if you can’t tell already, I was not too pleased with my parent’s decision. Seriously, having an old person in the house was going to be awkward. I mean, I thought they smelled funny, based on my limited experience. I’d never been around anyone other than Ms. Taggart the librarian, and she’s older than Moses’ toes and she DEFINITELY smelled funny. I just guessed all other old people smelled the same–the mixed aroma of Old Spice and the grave. Okay, that last bit was a touch dramatic, but bear with me, you’ll understand more as I tell you the story. Believe me, you’ll want to hear how this situation unravelled. You think you know how the next year progressed, but you…have…no…idea.


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