Character: Warrick Brown
Rating: PG
Summary: About family. A Gen story. Hush 
Grandma treads heavily in the kitchen, fixing breakfast, humming to herself, to Warrick, to the space within. She fills the cup with coffee, stirs in sugar and milk when she turns around and sees Warrick sitting at the kitchen table. She stops what she’s doing and says, “Warrick, child, what’s the matter?”
He asks but dreads the answers, hates the lost feeling. He’s a boy with no anchor, no sense of real self yet he had to know. “Grandma, do you think I’m ugly? Am I black?”
“Child,” she gasps with wonder on her face, then she frowns. “Wherever did you get such ideas?”
“School,” he mumbles, afraid of her reaction to his answer. He stirs his hot cereal slowly, his appetite fades, and his eyes fill with moisture.
“Oh dear,” she says, padding over to him. “What stupid things are those children saying now?
“The kids pick on me, said my eyes are weird. Black boys don’t have green eyes.”
She sighs, the anger is gone just as quick. He knows this and he knows his grandma’s hot temper is for his classmates, and not for him, not this time, anyway.
“You’re a handsome little one,” she says, hugging Warrick to her ample buxom. “We’ll talk about this later. Now eat your breakfast. You don’t want to be late for school.”
“Grandma, are you coming to school?”
“No, child.” She smiles and kisses him on his forehead.
***
She pats the sofa near her right side indicating where Warrick should sit. She begins the discussion with brutal honesty and tempers the quality of her voice with soft tones. Grandma explains about family genetics, green colored eyes, and speaks on the history of being black. And talks some about his mother and father.
“Children tease other children for things they don’t understand, and for things they wished they had. Some call it jealousy. I think its ignorance. But, child, never let anyone’s opinion of you make you feel bad.”
“Chin up and be strong. You’ll face many obstacles in your life and the color of your skin and eyes will be the least of them. You’re black, you’re white, you’re Native American, be proud of your heritage. But what really matters the most is what’s inside here.” She strokes his chest where his heart lays.
***
He remembers the weight of her power in her presence, and the strength of her words, the meanings they’d conveyed. It took awhile before he understood everything she had meant. Surely, though, the deep void created by his parents’ abandonment eventually fills up with life meanings; he had acquired another type of anchor.
He loves his grandmother. She doesn’t know that night long ago started him on his path to who and what he is today. Of course, he’d stumbled along the way, just as his grandmother had predicted, and made grand mistakes. But she keeps him, prods him to do better, gives him firm support, and never abandons him, like his parents. She’s his black female warrior. And he wants his grandma proud of him.
Warrick reaches for his cell phone, ignores the stares of his colleagues, and dials, and waits for the other end to pick up.
“Hey grandma, how you’re doing? Everything is fine, just wanted to hear your voice. Are you free tomorrow? Good, I’m taking you out to lunch.”
He hears the smile of his anchor gentled with time and age.
–end–
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