Well. It was one of those moments. We were visiting Fahamu and Nitefa, their 4 year old daughter and their newborn son. Kenya had just returned from college on thanksgiving break and the Pecous were on her short list of 2 that she was interested in seeing. Having grown into a very straight forward and direct person…Kenya, now the threshold of twenty, has always been clear on what she wants and what she will and will not do. So I obliged...though I know there were a few others that would be interested in seeing her. She wasn’t interested. Said she was only here for 4 days, was working 3 of those leaving very little time for socializing.
So we are all sitting in the living room. Fussing over the baby. Kissing his big sister …catching up. The Pecou have known Jordana since she was 8 or 9 years old. Family. So then I brag a little. Its a story I've told often.
I start to tell the Pecou's that I surprised Kenya at college. I didn't tell her I was coming. I just showed up one day (after finding out where all her classes were) at the door of her English Classics class. And how I was glad she went to class that day and how proud she was to show me off to her teachers and classmates. I could hardly catch my breath EVERY single time I recount the story. Proud Mama that I am. So I’m rolling along having told this story many a time. When Kenya says, "it wasn’t a surprise mommy. I knew you were coming." “Huh” I said. Looking dazed and confused and my wind deflated voice sinking by the octaves. "Huh" becoming a multi syllable word. “You knew”? , is all I am able to muster. “Yes Mama, Ine (that's her best friend who I called to get info on where her class was so I could surprise her) told me.” “Huh” ? There we go again. Sinking further. “Yes. I'm sorry mommy”, she says with full disclosure, confidence and not a hint of guilt. That’s how she always told the truth. Straight forward. Clear. It was at that point that the awkward stare that I opened this blog up with took full form. Fahamu looking at his wife. His wife looking at me. Me looking at Kenya. Kenya looking a Nitefa. “Mama. Don't be upset," she says reminding me of her at 12 years old. "Huh" I said? “Don't be. The only reason she told me is because I had a weave in my hair and she knew you wouldn't approve so she had to tell me so I could take it out.” That’s Kenya. Always good for the truth. "Huh". At this point. Fahamu and Nitefa are waiting in silence for the ball to drop , break and shatter. Everybody waiting for me to either erupt, go ballistics or show some sort of emotion. No one is really sure what’s coming next. Everyone is quiet. . Even the children are silent. “Did you like it,” I ask. “ The weave”?. "Yea it was ok", Kenya responds. Ok I say. Everyone exhales and resume our family fun time with the babies. I am grateful for the truth.
