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Nearly two weeks—an entire twelve days—my grandmother and mother have been in town and every morning my grandmother was up at the crack of dawn, barking orders. She wanted the house clean by six in the morning so she could make breakfast by the next hour. And don't get me started how she tells me what to do when it comes to my own child.
Everything I done, she complained about it.
If I could ship a woman off to Jamaica without anyone noticing, I definitely would.
Just like now I had to reveal to everyone that I have to leave to work on my upcoming album, and of course, my grandmother was the first to say, "Miami and leave your daughter for the rest of this month to work? No!"
Rolling my eyes, I blew out a heavy breath and planted a seat at the island. "Yes, to work on an album—something I haven't done in years. Sarai's coming with me. You and Mommy are going back to New York."
"You take her while you spend long nights in the studio?" GramMa shook her head strongly, "No, no, no. Mi stay, I watch Sarai Jolene."
"Yeahh, no." I declined politely, shaking my head. "Her father and I have a system on when she goes with him. I know you will make it difficult to make sure that happens."
"Mi?" She pointed at herself, looking appalled as if she doesn't know herself. "What if mi promise to–"
"You can't promise to be anything less than what you are, GramMa." I said.
GramMa groaned and stormed out the kitchen, murmuring patois.
"Don't worry bout her," My mother came ahead of me. "She'll get over it once we leave."
"And that will be?" I asked, "I love your company. But GramMa, it's time for her to go."
My mother chuckled softly. "Totally get it. When's Margo coming?"
"About two hours," I said.
"Oh yeah? Who's bringing over?" She asked folding a towel my grandmother wiped the counters down with as she waited on an answer.
