Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

helped me tolerate Grandmother Beverly, to flick off

her nasty comments and criticism or let it float on by,

unheard, unrecognized. When she began one of her

lectures. I stared at her and in my mind. I rolled off

lines from the play, listening to the voices in my head

instead of her. In a way I had become just like

Mammy, able to ignore her.

Perhaps most of all, the play loomed as the one

big thing that would restore Mommy, bring her

happiness and pleasure, help her to forget her tragedy

and depression and bring us together in our special

way once more.

And then, as if Grandmother Beverly

understood all this, she homed in on her opportunity

to ruin it, to shut another door and maybe drive

Mommy back into despair. This opportunity came

from the ugliest and nastiest of the rumors that girls

like Iris Ainsley kept swarming like angry bees around me. She was so beautiful and intelligent. She had more than most girls dreamed of having, but her jealousy was too strong. It replaced the soft blue in her eves with a putrid green and turned those perfect lips into writhing corkscrews, turning and twisting words and thoughts until they spilled out around me in the form of accusations about Miss Hamilton and

myself.

The clouds steamed in from the north, cold and

dark, eager to close off my sunshine.

I couldn't let it happen. I wouldn't let it happen. I drew strength from my spirits, my old pictures

in the attic and the voices in the walls.

And I went forth to do battle with all the

demons inside my home and out.

7 Bright Lights Can Burn

It really began when Miss Hamilton decided to hold small rehearsals at her house on weekends. Mammy had returned home from the clinic by then. The doctor had given her some medication to keep her calm. She was still weak, fragile, tired by early evening. When she came home and saw the changes Grandmother Beverly had made, she was very upset, but Daddy quickly reminded her that she had to remain tranquil and not get herself so worked up that she suffered a relapse. He promised to restore whatever she wished restored, but he took his time doing it, so I found her pictures in the basement myself and took down the ones Grandmother Beverly had put in their place. Mommy supervised the restoration while Grandmother Beverly fumed in the living room, staring at her television programs.

It was more difficult to restore the furniture in the living room and to reconstruct the kitchen. Mammy wasn't up to working yet, which meant Grandmother Beverly still prepared the meals. As long as she was doing that, she wanted the kitchen to be "sensible and organized." Mammy and I removed as many of the changes in her and Daddy's bedroom that we could. I found their previous window curtains and we rehung them. I had to go to the department store to buy bedding similar to what they had before Grandmother Beverly had replaced it. She had thrown Mommy's choices away.

Everything we did. Grandmother Beverly challenged and argued over, but we didn't pay any attention. As Mommy had decided, we nodded, said yes and then did what we wanted. It was beginning to be film again,

I took Mommy for walks. Color returned to her cheeks. Her appetite grew better and I was more hopeful and happier than I had been in weeks. I waited to tell her about Clarence and what