Everything Has a Reason

In this life, your mother and I learned that misery may love company, but happiness attracts the misery of company. Despite my transgressions, your mom cared for me deeply. Since the first time I saw her sitting on her grandma’s stoop peeling oranges, I haven’t stopped thinking about her one dimple smile. She was the prettiest well-mannered tomboy with her muddy Reebok tennis shoes and all those barrettes on top of her head. Unlike the other cute city girls in Palm Beach, her hands got dirty in that muck soil. Her great granddaddy inherited that thousand-acre land after the hurricane flood in ’28 from his pale-looking momma.

Every morning the women woke up, fed the animals and managed the fruit plants while the men plowed the land, burned sugarcane and whatnot. Even though, your mom was an old traditional soul, her spirit was free and took flight whenever the wind called. Her grandma always fixed me a meal on my way home from football practice. I’d hear Mama Dawn tell your mom, “that Weldon boy finna win muck bowl, you hear me Kirra? Watch and see; you need a man like that to take care of you when I’m gone. He’s tall, fast and strong! Mmm-hmmm, those fast little girls already after him. Take this here, plate of good food, over to that fine young man, so he can get to know you better, baby.”

Mama Dawn was amazing in the kitchen. I’m talking chicken, greens, mac and cheese; ooo-wee, and that sweet cornbread made from scratch was a blessing to my stomach and soul! However, Kirra was more interested in watching the sunrise on her stoop before school started and running by the cane fields than catering to her future husband. She always loved to race somebody. She was faster than them rabbits that we chased out there and the fastest thing on Pahokee High’s track team. I was a catch, but Kirra was the debutante that all the boys drooled over. There was some little boy named Philip that she crushed over for a little while, but I made her laugh.

Before we knew it, we were homecoming king and queen, husband and wife and eventually parents. Everything between us happened so fast. Mama Dawn spoke us into existence; yes, she did. A couple months after we married though, Mama Dawn succumbed to diabetes. We both took her passing hard, but Kirra couldn’t let Mama Dawn go. You see, Kirra’s mom passed away giving birth to her, so Mama Dawn was the only mom Kirra ever knew. Soon after, a night owl would sit on a tree branch right outside her window watching over her. Kirra was convinced the owl was her grand mama’s soul looking after her and her babies since she had no momma and no daddy.

On the other hand, your mom wasn’t herself after Mama Dawn died, and she lost the baby at seventeen weeks. She kept blaming herself for the miscarriage thinking that she couldn’t carry, but the doctor found fibroids in her uterus. At the time, surgery wasn’t an option. The farm wasn’t doing so well, and we were trying to compete with bigwigs in the sugarcane industry. They never cared for colored people owning and mining that black gold. We couldn’t afford to fix the old equipment when it broke down. The fuel and materials needed to keep the crops growing got too expensive. When we sold that large chunk of land, your mom was devastated. Her father died in his sleep from an aneurysm, a year after she graduated high school. Day and night he worked that land and broke his back to keep it in the family.

The hospital bills were piling up. We tried so many times; again and again, we’d end up disappointed. Kirra fell into a depression. She felt like she was less of a woman. I didn’t make our problems any better either. My eyes wondered, and she questioned my whereabouts when I’d stumble in the door after midnight too many nights to count. I loved your momma, but we were only 20-years-old when we married. I didn’t know how to be a supportive husband. What she don’t know, won’t hurt her was how I saw it. I brought home the bacon she cooked every morning, managed what was left of the land we owned and protected her the best I could. That’s what Mama Dawn said made a lasting marriage, taking care of one another.

After two years of trying to have a baby, Kirra was beginning to lose hope, but she kept hearing the owl hoot right outside her window. She’d be up listening to Mama Dawn’s wisdom all night as if that loud bird was telling her how to have a baby. All of a sudden, Kirra was drinking herbal teas all the time and taking all these vitamins. Guess what though? Two months later, the pregnancy test was positive. Kirra’s screaming and hollering startled me when she ran up to me waving that stick with the pink lines. Her one dimple smile, lifted any poor old man's spirit up. I picked her up and she hugged my neck tight with joy.

This time, I made sure she didn’t worry at all. I became the husband she needed all along. I rubbed her feet and fed them celery and peanut butter cravings she use to have. I didn’t want her to lift a finger. Destiny, baby girl, you came out the size of a football. Your eyes were so big, but you worried your momma a little because you was two weeks early. The hospital nurse calmed her nerves though. I never saw this nurse she spoke of, but Kirra kept saying she favored someone she knew. Your momma was elated when she held you for the first time. She named you Destiny because Mama Dawn would always tell us, “nothing happens by chance, everything has a reason for being.”

From that moment on, everything seemed to be on the right track. Kirra looked so happy cradling you back and forth in Mama Dawn’s old rocking chair. Breastfeeding was tough at first, but after a few nights and much patience, you latched on. About eight months later, Kirra wasn’t feeling like herself. I started noticing that she was tired all the time, her stomach was always upset, and she was slimming down without trying. Since it was tough to get pregnant with Destiny, it didn’t occur to us that she might be pregnant again. Then, the doctor showed us her head on the ultrasound. We couldn’t believe it; she was already three months pregnant. Kirra smiled, awkwardly, when the doctor told her the news. I could tell she was nervous about having another baby. What if something goes wrong again? The “what ifs?” circled in her mind like a hurricane.

However, our marriage was troubling her more. One morning, I looked out the window to see Kirra watching the sunrise, and I swear that same owl was standing beside her on the stoop. When I opened the front door, the bird vanished. Kirra looked back at me, and she asked I come sit beside her. I thought I was seeing things, so I looked confused. She paid my face no mind at first. As she rubbed her stomach, she told me why she liked watching the sun come up. “Mama Dawn once told me that my momma would come out here to this here old stoop with her cup of tea when she was pregnant with me. She would wipe the tears from my cheek when I was sad looking at other little girls wishing my mom picked me up like them. She said my momma loved singing The Temptations: 'I've got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it's cold outside…what can make me feel this way. Oh, my girl, my girl, my girl…' Anyways, she named me Kirra after the sun. She was into all that Greek and Egyptian mythology.”

Unexpectedly, Kirra looked me dead in my eye and swooped in for the kill, “I know what you been doing out here late night with them home-wrecking women that know you are married with babies.” My face looked more confused, but Kirra was not a woman, you could get one over on, and she wasn’t scared. She said what she said, and made sure you knew who she was. I was getting ready to ask her what she meant, and she cut me off. “It’s a small town Idris; everybody know everybody. You should know better and remember I’m your wife. Wipe that dumb look off your face.” She slowly went to push herself to stand up, so I tried to reach out towards her to give her a hand. You know, she smacked my hand away like I was a fruit fly.

Your momma was so spiteful. As she walked away, she shook her head in disappointment saying, “I give you two babies, and this how you do me. Get it together, Idris. Mama Dawn is rolling in her grave right now.” Your mom kicked me out of our bedroom, and didn’t speak to me unless it was about y’all and didn't feed me for almost six months. I was thinning away, so I really needed her cooking. Then, she ran into so-called Philip when I took her to the grocery store, and would you believe she flirted with him, big belly and all, right in front of me. She was cold, but I kept groveling and begging for her forgiveness.

Suddenly, a voice chuckled softly, “I didn’t forgive your sorry daddy until the day you were born Aaliyah.” Kirra’s eyes opened slowly as she attempted to speak. Everyone shouted with joy, excited to see Kirra waking up from her sleep. “Why are you telling everybody all our business Idris? These children don’t need to know our dirty laundry.” Destiny leaned towards her mother on the hospital bed slightly, so Kirra could see the white-gold setting and stone on her ring finger. “Daddy was giving us advice in his weird way momma because I’m getting married!” Kirra was stunned and speechless, but wanted to jump for joy. However, she realized her stomach felt like it was ripped apart and put back together. Idris rushed gently to put his hand on Kirra’s shoulder to warn, “the doctor said, no sudden movements love.”

Aaliyah and Destiny started talking over each other asking about the validity of the tale their father just told. “Hey, hey, hey!” Kirra attempted to shush everybody, “y’all hear that?” They weren’t paying any attention. During the commotion, Kirra laid her head back to notice a familiar face walking in towards her, “I see your surgery went well. How you feeling baby girl?” Kirra turned her head, and sighed with relief to see out the window a magnificent bird on the tree branch. “I feel grateful for being highly favored,” Kirra sighed with relief. When Kirra turned her head back for the nurse, she wasn’t there anymore. All of a sudden, a soft gentle voice travelled down the hallway and serenaded Kirra's ears, “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day…”