Member-only story
About Me
Carmellita in the Making…
Living is a soul trip. Life is poetry.
Melanin rich and honeyed, butter brown syrupy — D.B. Mays, Black Lives, Lines, and Lyrics
I was born to two teen parents in Louisiana. They had to figure out parenthood and adulthood early in life. My mom learned quickly and well, it took my biological father a lot longer.
He eventually figured it out but by that time I was an adult and he was a father again. He finally got it right. When the sunset for him on December 18, 2018, I can honestly say he had become a good man and a good father but gone too soon.
Growing up in Louisiana in a small rural town, I lived with my grandparents for a while. They lived in a community where many of the people created homesteads. I saw my first white egg when I was 6 years old. When I visited my cousins in Dallas, Texas, I thought it was strange they didn’t have any fruit trees in their yards.
Yes, like most Louisianians of Color, I have Creole Heritage. Creole is not a race. Creole is an ethnic group and culture. I don’t speak Creole fluently (speak some), write it a bit, but I do understand it when I hear it.
