Sitting there with the signed papers in my hand a few minutes ago, I understood something I couldn't take back. I wasn't the foundation. I was just part of it. And she learned how to rebuild without me. And there wasn't nothing in this world that was gonna put me back where I used to stand.
NIA
One Year Later
I rushed through the house picking up my purse, keys, and everything else I seemed to need. Juelz stood by the door with a mug on his face irritated that he'd been waiting on me and Jezel for more than five minutes. "Jezel you keep running your hand through them braids they gon fall out." He said to her.
"Juelz shut up." She mumbled to him.
"Out to the car, please, both of you," I said to them. The older they got, the more they went back and forth. I took in the house's decor. I'd remodeled, made updates, and redecorated once the divorce was finalized. The color scheme was now blush pink, nude, and boho. Juelz hated it, but I loved it. It made everything feel fresh and new. It didn't feel like the same old same old. I smiled at the picture of Juliana hanging on the wall before exiting the house. We were headed to Julise's school. She had a speech to give today in her public speaking class, and the students' families were invited to attend. Each student hada different topic to write about, a time they realized something significant, and why it was significant.
The air outside felt different these days. Not lighter exactly, just clearer. Like everything that used to sit heavy on my chest had finally settled somewhere I could carry it without it breaking me down every time I took a breath. I locked the door behind me and walked toward the car, watching Juelz already in the back passenger seat scrolling through his phone while Jezel sat on the opposite side checking her reflection in the mirror like she hadn't done that ten times already.
I got in the driver's seat and started the car. "Seatbelts," I said without looking at them. They clicked in almost at the same time. That used to be something I had to repeat. Over and over. Now it was just understood. A lot of things were like that now. I pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. The house got smaller in the rearview mirror, but it didn't feel like I was leaving something behind anymore. It felt like I was moving forward from it. That difference mattered. more than I used to admit. We rode in silence for a few minutes. "Ma," Jezel said softly from the back seat.
"Yeah?"
"You think Julise nervous?" I glanced at her in the mirror. She was looking down at her hands, picking at her nails. "I think she’s ready," I said. "Your sister been working on that speech all week."
"She kept practicing in her room," Juelz added, not looking up from his phone. "Talking loud as hell, too."
"Juelz," I said, cutting my eyes at him.
"I'm just saying," he shrugged. "She been serious about it. "Serious was new for Julise. In a way that showed me something had shifted in her. In all of us.
I remembered sitting next to her in that nail salon. Watching her break down in a way she had been holding in for longer than I even realized. I remembered driving her to therapy that first morning and not knowing if she would walk in or slam the door and refuse. She changed. Not overnight. But she did the work. And I watched her do it without trying to control it. That was something I had to learn. Letting people grow without forcing them to be who you need them to be.
I pulled into the school parking lot and found a spot near the front. Parents were already gathering outside, some walking in, some standing around talking. I circled around the parking lot and parked near the rest of the family. I could see Evie and Saint standing next to their car. Juste and Chiana were looking over their kids, and Noles and Ayida had just pulled up at the same time as Pierre and Amina. I cut the engine and turned to look at them. "Y’all ready?" I asked. They nodded.
We got out and walked toward the rest of the family. We all spoke to one another, passing hugs and smiles. Jules pulled into the parking lot and hopped out quickly. "My bad. I was running behind," he said, hugging the kids before giving me a side hug.
The last year after the divorce had been finalized, things had been steady with us. We co-parented smoothly with the kids and remained cordial at events together. I was thankful we were able to be grown and make this part as peaceful as we could for the kids.
We headed inside, taking our seats, waiting for the program to start. The auditorium was already half full. Parents lined the back wall, some standing, some sitting in those small plastic chairs that always felt like they were built for discomfort. The kids sat up front, shifting in their seats, whispering, some nervous, some excited. I found Julise with my eyes almost instantly. She sat up straight. Hands folded in her lap. Not fidgeting. That alone told me everything I needed to know.
A year ago, she wouldn't have been able to sit still long enough to get through something like this without rolling her eyes or shutting down completely. Now she looked grounded. Like she had found her footing again.
I eased back into my seat, crossing my legs, my hands resting in my lap. The rest of the family filled in around me. Evie whispered something under her breath to Saint that made him shake his head. Amina leaned over to Chiana, already talking. Ayida sat still, calm, her presence always carrying something deeper than what was on the surface. Jules sat a few seats down. Not too close. Not too far. Just where he belonged now. That no longer made my chest tighten. It just was.
The teacher stood at the front, welcoming everyone and explaining the assignment. I listened, but my focus stayed on Julise. In ways, I hadn't always given her the space to show how capable she was.
The presentations started one by one. Kids stood up, voices shaking, some reading straight from their paper, some trying to memorize. Stories about losing pets, moving schools, and friendships ending. Small moments that felt big to them. That's how it always starts. The things that shape you don't always look like much from the outside. But they change you anyway.
When it was Julise's turn, she stood up with no hesitation. She walked to the front of the room and turned to face everybody. Her eyes scanned the room for a second, then landed on me. Just for a moment. Then she looked forward again.
"My speech is about the moment I realized my mama wasn't just my mama, she was a person. And not just any person, a strong one. For a long time, I thought parents were just parents. Like they were supposed to have all the answers, supposed to fix everything, supposed to make life feel normal no matter what was going on. I never really thought about what it took for them to do that. Or what it costs. The moment I realized that was when everything in my family changed. Things stopped being how they used to be. The house felt different. Conversations got shorter. Some things just went quiet. And I didn't understand it. I was angry. I blamed my mama for a lot of things I didn't even fully understand. I thought she was the reason everything felt broken. I thought she was the reason things didn't go back to normal. But I wasn't paying attention to what she was actually doing. I wasn't paying attention to how she was still waking up every morning, making sure we were good, making sure we had what we needed, even when she was going through things I didn't even know about. I wasn't paying attention to how she never stopped being there, even when I was pushing her away. And I did push her away a lot. I had an attitude. I said things I shouldn't have said. I acted like she was the problem when really, she was the one holding everything together. The moment it clicked for me wasn't loud. It was quiet. I remember watching her one day, just doing regular stuff. Cooking. Cleaning. Checking on us. And I realized she looked tired. Not just physically, but like deeply tired. And she still showed up anyway. That's when I realized my mama wasn'tweak. She was choosing to keep going. She was choosing us. Over and over again. Even when it probably would've been easier not to. And that's when I started to understand, love doesn't always look like what you think it's supposed to look like. Sometimes it's not loud. Sometimes it's not perfect. Sometimes it's not even happy. Sometimes love looks like sacrifice. Like choosing your kids even when your own life feels like it's falling apart. Like letting go of things that hurt you, so you can be better for the people you love. My mama made many sacrifices for us. Some I see now. Some I probably still don't even know about. But I know this: she never stopped loving us through any of it. And that made me realize something about myself, too. I had to take accountability for how I was acting. I had to realize that just because I was hurting, it didn't mean I could hurt her back. And I had to learn how to appreciate her while she's still here. Not later. Not when I'm grown. Now. So my significant moment wasn't just realizing my mama is strong. It was realizing she's human. And loving her for both. That changed how I see her. Because now I don't just see my mama as somebody who's supposed to hold everything together. I see her as the reason I know what strength actually looks like."
I felt tears rolling down my face as I stood up and clapped with the rest of the auditorium. This whole time I had no idea she was writing her speech about me. A mother's love was like no other. I was glad to see that she was growing and had a newfound sense of understanding; she was becoming a young lady. I wiped the tears from my chin before blowing kisses at her. For a long time, I wondered how the kids would look at me after the divorce, but I was glad to know that she at least saw me. And not just saw me as her mama, but saw me for who I really was. For years... I didn't even see myself like that. I saw survival. I sawresponsibility. I saw everything I had to do, but not everything I had become.
It took everything falling apart for me to finally look at myself and recognize the woman I had been all along. I eased back down into my seat, still clapping, still watching her. She didn't smile big. Didn't get emotional. She just sat there like she had said what she needed to say. Like she understood something now that she couldn't unlearn.
After the speeches at the school, we had a big crawfish boil out in the yard and allowed Julise to invite some of her friends over. The music was playing, and the kids were running around outside. I watched from a kitchen window, where I sat laughing and sneaking in margaritas with Chiana, Amina, and Ayida. The house felt full. Voices bouncing off the walls, laughter spilling through the open back door, music blending into it all. For a second, I let myself stand still and just take it in. This was the kind of moment I used to fight for. Back then, it always felt like something could slip through my fingers at any moment. Now it felt like something I had built. Different foundation. Same love. Stronger structure.
"Y’all up in here giggling and sipping, you need to be out here chaperoning your daughter and her friends. You know them kids like to drink liquor." Evie said, busting through the door, making us laugh.
"Aint no alcohol out there, crazy lady," I said to her.
"You don’t know what the hell they snuck to your house. Hell, they snuck it in the school," she said, putting her hands on her hips.