Their knops and their branches shall be of the same: all it shall be one beaten work of pure gold.
Exodus 25:36
At this time,
I was the oldest out of four girls. I
was born in 1976, Naomi in 1977, Armani in 1980, and Eve in 1983. I called myself Secret. Naomi and I were a year and four months
apart, so most of the time in this period, I only had to watch my middle sister
Armani and my youngest sister Eve.
Naomi and I
sort of looked alike, but we had different personalities, and different fathers. Her hair was straight, black, silky, and
thin; mine was thick, dry, and full. We
were the same complexion and about the same height. Although I was the oldest, Naomi was more
mature, and wiser than me. For example
Naomi would prepare for the day early in the morning, while it was still dark
outside. She was the first one up, every
morning, so she didn’t have to fight over the bathroom or worry about anyone
getting in her way. She always took her
clothes out at night and ironed them, so all she had to do in the morning was
get dressed. She took her time in the
mirror, making sure her hair, and face, looked perfect. I, on the other hand, was not a morning
person. I was disorganized and always
late. I waited until the very last
minute to get up. When I finally got up,
I had to search for clothes to wear, and fight over the bathroom. I always looked like I threw myself together.
When confronted with
a problem, Naomi knew how to fight back with her words. I, on the other hand, could barely speak
without stuttering. I knew what I wanted
to say, but I just had a hard time getting the words out. Plus, I spoke with a lisp. Naomi loved to dance and crack jokes. Most folks from the neighborhood laughed when
they heard her jokes – that made her very popular, and well liked. She had plenty of girlfriends to hang out
with. They liked to play with dolls, do
hair, and watch cartoons. All three
things were boring to me. I hated
playing with Barbie dolls, which were for kids.
I had enough problems trying to do my own hair, and cartoons were too
unrealistic for me. I preferred to hang
out with the teenage boys on the block. I
liked to climb trees, and play baseball and kickball. I didn’t care about prissiness, beautiful
hair, long nails, and toe polish. I was
rough. I cared about the streets – going
outside, sitting on the hood of someone’s car, listening to the boys crack
jokes. The aura of the streets mixed
with the night’s air made me feel safe, like a baby latching onto a safety
blanket.
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