Priceless Inspirations by Antonia Carter Page B

shotgun-style--one floor with rooms going in a straight line from the front of the house to the kitchen at the back. My mother’s room was near the living room, and mine was near the kitchen. Within days of us moving in, it started. There were men in the house, cooking and smoking. I was scared to death that something was going to happen to me or to Reginae. A month later, I left. It hurt me to my heart to leave because I really wanted for it all to work. I had really hoped that things had changed for my mom and me. She was older and wiser, and I had a new baby to take care of. I needed her. I wanted that mother-daughter relationship I had dreamed of for both myself and for my little girl.
    Realizing that, once again, it wasn’t going to happen, hurt me to my heart. However, I knew I couldn’t stay. Even if I was willing to put myself in that situation, I couldn’t expose my daughter to it. I just couldn’t do it. I went back to stay with Dream’s mom and eventually, when I finished school, got my own place.
    I avoided my mom for a long time after that. When Aunt Edwina died, I really began to realize how much I needed her in my life.
    It was 2005 and I had just moved to Atlanta when Aunt Edwina passed. She’d been sick for a long time and in the hospital for weeks. I had gone back to New Orleans to visit and be near her and to pray for her recovery. She’d been getting a little better, but then took a turn for the worse. Finally, we all prayed and then they disconnected the machines that had been helping her to breathe, and essentially to live. She died.
    I was heartsick over her loss. She was a huge part of my life, and I just couldn’t stand it. Through all the turbulence and craziness, Aunt Edwina had always been there. She’d never judged me or called me names. She was always sweet, encouraging and gentle. She was the first to call me at midnight on my birthday. She was the one who prayed with me when times were so hard I didn’t think I could make it.
    She always loved me exactly like she did when I was a very little girl and she and Uncle Frank said, “We’re gonna take that pretty little baby and bring her up safe, here with us.”
    At the funeral, I just lost it. She looked beautiful and at peace laying in the casket and it was just too much for me. I’m not one for funerals and I’d never touched a dead person before in my life, but I hugged and kissed her body. I just couldn’t let her go without hugging her goodbye. She was my angel. I know she’s still watching over me. I feel it. I’ll see her again in heaven.
    I returned to Atlanta, heartbroken and devastated. With Aunt Edwina gone, I felt like there was a hole in the foundation of my life. Dream and I were through. I’d moved to Atlanta where I didn’t know a soul. Everything in my life was turned upside down. You know that song about “feeling like a motherless child”? That was me. In fact, I had never felt so “motherless” in my life.
    I realized I needed to really “know” my own mother. I needed to understand her. I needed to understand what had driven her to drugs. I needed to try to find a way to bring some healing and peace to my relationship with her. I needed to stop avoiding her and accept her for who she was. I finally admitted to myself the truth that I’d been running from most of my life--I loved my mother because she was my mother. I wanted her in my life and in my daughter’s life. There would always be a hole in me where she was supposed to be until I found a way to embrace her for who she was, without condoning her mistakes.
    We have struggled, and continue to struggle, to build that relationship. It’s been hard on us both. We’ve had some really great moments, and some real low points. In a strange way, I’ve ended up teaching her how behave like a mother. I’ve set limits for her, just like I do for Reginae.
    She knows that I know when she’s high. She knows I won’t deal with that. She knows I won’t