text: I didn’t ask the question, where am I from?... but once. Until she was gone! The look on her face didn’t say: I don’t know. It said have I not done a good job? Barbara was the oldest of twelve children. So, caring for others was expected and necessary. Growing up in the thirties, her parents worked for the local market owner. My grandmother Rainey, my mom’s mother worked as a maid in the Pair’s house. As a child, I remember mom telling the story of her birth on the floor of that store. She would say that grandma had to pay for the loss income during the birth and clean up, because a black woman contaminated the floor of a ‘’white’s only’’ establishment. Maybe that is why she hated going to work for the same family. When grandma could no longer perform the required duties, mom took over the position. Cleaning the four-bedroom main house and the store, for almost forty years. She honored her mother’s debt or paid for her own, in that mansion until old man Pair’s death in 1972. Cleaning rooms and silver not used every Saturday. Monday through Friday cleaning the master bedroom, bathroom and kitchen daily. Preparing three meals for the lady of the house and her lunch guess usually, it was the daughter-in-law or the son. Although the times were changing, the younger Pair man was still his father’s son. Thankfully, his wife was different and loved my mother. She asked mom to stay on as a caregiver for her mother-in-law and to do only what she needed to live comfortably daily. That got old quickly because just sitting wasn’t the kind of person mom was. The husband didn’t want to pay for a glorified sitter, something his nonworking wife could do. So, mom went back to cleaning both houses. Mom was hired by the wife to cook a soft diet for both of the mother-in-law. Her mother was in a nursing home in the next town over. One day, when she had another engagement, mom surprised the staff by showing up unexpectedly and witnessed abuse against her mother and called the police and the daughter. My mom was most comfortable taking care of people all the time, my dad told me. That was one of the things that he fell in love with. She became sick soon after their wedding day. She had the measles, got diagnosed as a diabetic and loss a pregnancy. This was dramatic and caused depression. She wanted children of her own, so they adopted me. The Saturday cleaning job and cooking was not enough for her to maintain the life she’d become accustomed to, when I started school. The bus driver realized my mom would follow her through the entire route until we reached school. She was given an ultimatum, stop following or get a job driving a school bus. So, by the beginning of summer school, she was employed by Greensville County school system. I hated waking up at 5am to leave by six. We didn’t return until almost six pm on regular school days. I was not happy with the schedule but I didn’t have any choice. Our leisure days of lunch in Petersburg and shopping were no more. I didn’t want to share her with anyone else either. The young me didn’t appreciate her love of children and their wellbeing. All I could see was things that I was the sole recipient of were now being spread out between me and others. I guess you don’t know what parents who care go through. It wasn’t until I had children that I understood. Or at least I thought I did, well... Who she was to me, to my family and to those that knew her was very different. Of course, she was the only mother I knew growing up. For many years our relationship was tested. I even once declared I’d never be like her, doing jobs I hated just to put a roof overhead and a meal in our bellies. After, my daycare children all started school or moved; I needed to create an income that worked with my youngster’s schedule. I learned two things quickly, 1) having a family, will make you do whatever you need to, and 2) apologizing to your mother is very hard. You see, I had to humble myself and ask for tips on being a good bus driver. I remember mom laughing. She drove bus 18 for nineteen years. At her funeral several people came up to tell me that they would miss her but I expected that, just because it is what you say. I knew a bunch of folks would have comments good, bad or indifferent. There was one though that floored me, the biggest thorn in my side in school; she hugged me and said “your mom is the reason I’m alive today. When I got pregnant, she talked to me and let me stay with her for a week, when my mom kicked me out.” I don’t know how she really fixed her face to say that went through my mind and tears rolled down my cheeks. She continued to squeeze me tightly, so all I could do was listen. Her next sentence really stung. She said “your mom regretted her actions so much after you left, she told me.” “I think that’s why she helped me get straight and go back home.” After hearing her out, I said “okay, and?” as if I didn’t know what she meant. I just didn’t know what I should say. Do I strike back, with my son will be 40, this December! Would that throw the appropriate shade? Or do I just except the apology from the grave? Knowing that I already knew what she had just said was true, because mom splurged at Christmas. My two-week old son reaped a king’s bounty on December 25, 1982. She even promised a new Cadillac for his 18 th birthday. Unfortunately, that son lost two grandparents inside of a year. My mother passed around his father’s birthday when he was thirteen and the only grandfather he had left; five days after his 14 th . You don’t have to know your birth parents to know where you came from, just look in the mirror at who you are now. So many individuals will be represented every morning. Your birth parents, your adopted parents and the village that influenced the YOU that you’ve become today!