Please excuse the offensive word used in context in this story.
Rosie was beautiful, the first black woman I ever knew. She tolerated my stroking her creamy, caramel-colored legs as she washed dishes or ironed. Her crisply starched cotton housedresses smelled just like sunshine. Normally, I trailed my mother, but on the days Rosie was there, she couldn’t stop suddenly without my bumping her. Rosie ate standing Continue reading