Grandma's Mother

My grandmother was orphaned at three. She was sent across the continent with her older brother and sister to live with her evil Aunt Ida in Newfoundland from Monterrey, California.

Her aunt beat her regularly and stole her inheritance. When she went to bed after a particularly bad beating, her mother came to her and ran her hand through her hair. In the morning, she awoke chipper and ready to take on the day. Her aunt asked her why she was so smiley after being beaten so severely the night before.

My grandmother said, ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

Her aunt said, ‘Try me.’

My grandmother said, ‘When I go to bed at night, my mother comes to me and runs her hand through my hair.’

Her aunt’s face lost color. She backed away, terrified. Her actions were being witnessed from the other side.

This was how my grandmother became resilient.

When I go to bed, when I am feeling particularly thin-skinned, my eight-year-old self comes to me. She sits on my lap and lets me hold her. I give to her what my parents didn’t.

I am present. I am love. I am support. I am protection. The inner me relaxes. I know I deserve this. I am my own best parent.