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