"Mr. Crandall," Doo explained the day before with her southern, well-paced and lyrical voice, "Is it okay to bring you a gift? I'd very much like to bring you something."
Doo proceeded.
When I was a girl, my family didn't have much. I was a reader and excited about the possibility of college and furthering my education but wasn't sure how I'd make it. On the day I left for school, I got to sit in the back of my Uncle's pick-up truck, and I was nervous about the change. We were pulling out of the driveway, when I saw my grand ma-ma, running after the truck. She raised me and wasn't a runner. I told my Uncle to slow the mobile, because grand ma-ma was sprinting after it.
When she reached me in the back of the truck she told me to put out my hand. I did. And you know what she gave me? She put a marble in my palm and said, 'Girl, you know we ain't got much, but I can give you this marble. Do know that wherever you are and wherever you go, this marble holds my love and support. You can keep it in your pocket so I can always be with you.
Ever since then, I've been giving out marbles of my own for special people. I want you to have one. And, if I can, I'd like to bring some for your boys.
For the last few years, instead of presenting to the Florida teachers in person, I've SKYPEd in with Abu, Robel, Akbaru, and Werdi. She also gave me one for Kanyea, Edem, Akech, Lossine, Mustapha, Arcadius, Omar and Abonga.
Tell them the Doo sent these. Tell them the story of my grand ma-ma, and tell them I love them.
I wish Doo could be here in person to tell the story herself (although, my Yankee pace tells it a lot faster).
Happy Summer! Looks like we are going to have 24-hours of gorgeous possibilities.
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