The Urbane Urbanite

I had to give my Granny an edgy makeover while she was living at the nursing home. There's something about the fabric of a grandmother's love. It's warm and fuzzy like your favorite childhood teddy bear. Sweet and inviting like the smell of an apple pie baking in the oven. Tough and wise like an old hardcover book on the shelf at the library.... On January 21, my granny, Lula Saintainia, said deuces and went on home to Glory. I can't say that I blame her. She put in her time - and then some.

Everyone was quiet during the sleepy train ride to work yesterday morning with the exception of one riled up mother. She was yapping away on her cell phone to her "no good" baby father. I closed my eyes, turned up my iPod and tried to tune her out. But phrases like "You ain't shit" "you good for nothing" and "I wish I never fucked with you," overpowered the Adele that was now blaring from my earphones. I didn't get too upset. I knew it was only a matter of time before she was forced to pipe down and hang up the phone when she lost her signal in the tunnel. I was right. Once the train hit the tunnel, her call dropped and all was right in the world until she started directing her baby daddy grievances toward someone else on the train instead. I finally had to turn around to see who this woman was and who had become her unlucky sounding board. My jaw dropped.

Last week, I tweeted this picture of my Mother and me at the nursing home visiting Granny. One of my followers retweeted the picture and said: “Wow, Shydel, you’re Mother is a MILF!” Lawd! After I threw up in my mouth, the comment got me to thinking: My Mom needs love too.