Chicken Soup for the African American Woman's Soul Read Online Free Page A

your health.
    We sat at the bus stop for about fifteen minutes then we crossed the street to go to the corner store to buy soda pop. Nanny loved soda, and she said that I could have any flavor I wanted for being such a good walker today. This block is where she taught me that persistence brings rewards.
    And in the last block she taught me the joy of accomplishing goals.
    â€œNanny, I think I see cousin Mittie’s house!”
    â€œAre you sure? Do you remember what it looks like? You know you were a lot younger the last time we went to visit her.”
    â€œI think that is it because there is a lady standing on the porch waving at us.”
    She laughed at my reasoning, “Well, I guess you are right then.”
    As we approached the old white house we could see cousin Mittie standing on the porch with a big, loving smile on her face. You could tell that she and Nanny were related because they were both tall, with brown-sugar skin and high cheekbones. She came down from the steps to greet us with her arms stretched open to give us hugs and kisses.
    She bent down to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “Did you enjoy your walk today, baby?”
    I looked at Nanny, and we smiled at each other. Then I turned to cousin Mittie and said “Yes, ma’am, I sure did!”
    These were, literally, the building blocks of my childhood.
    H. Renay Anderson

These Precious Hands
    Hands the shade of caramel, mocha, honey, chocolate
and brown
    It is in the midst of these precious hands that strength
can be found.
    It begins with Mother’s coffee hands that caress me as I
grow inside
    When I am born, these same hands reach out
and nestle me with pride.
    Mother, let me see your hands.
    Hands the shade of tan, coffee, beige, pecan and brown
    It is in the midst of these precious hands that strength
can be found.
    Look at this grandmother’s weathered and calloused
chocolate hands
    Strong enough to work in a factory and field
    Yet soft enough to soothe a bruised knee and tender
enough to heal.
    Grandmother, let me see your hands.
    Hands the shade of caramel, ebony, copper and brown
    It is in the midst of these precious hands that strength
can be found.
    Sister, let me see your hands.
    Mocha hands whose fingers skillfully glide over piano
keys.
    Pecan hands strongly clasped together as they pray on
bended knees.
    Nimble chocolate hands that give you that warning tap,
to let you know that you’re still in her sight.
    Ebony hands that embrace you to let you know that
everything is all right.
    Hands the shade of honey, mocha, coffee and brown.
    It is in the midst of these precious hands that strength
can be found.
    I look at the past and see mocha hands united together
in the civil rights movement.
    I see honey hands sacrificing to bless women in the
present.
    Copper hands that handle the gavel in the judge’s seat.
    Ebony hands that perform surgery and coffee hands that
teach.
    Nutmeg hands that bake warm pound cakes and sweet
potato pie,
    Served with a heaping side of seasoned wisdom that’s
too delicious to deny.
    Hands the shades of honey, caramel, coffee and brown
    It is in the midst of these precious hands that strength
can be found.
    Mother, let me see your hands.
    I treasure these precious hands that guard and surround
me
    I am here because these precious hands have always
been around me.
    Grandmother, let me see your hands.
    These hands are cherished because they are connected to
the heart
    Love is channeled through these hands and fingers with
tenderness to impart.
    Sister, let me see your hands.
    Hands the shade of espresso, bronze, ebony and brown
    It is in the midst of these precious hands that strength
can be found.
    Sheila P. Spencer

My Mother’s Shoes
    There were many days when I wanted to walk in my mother’s shoes.
    On a warm July morning in 2004, I shut and locked the door of my house. As I walked down the multicolored brick sidewalk, I felt uneasy butterflies dance in my