In order to change something about myself, I first had to acknowledge the existence of my dissatisfaction and recognition of my problems, and then I realize I’ve taken the first step to improvement. A change comes by consistency, faith, time, patience, and self-determination. What I have done in my life a wish will not undo, but a change for the better can be accomplished.

“Grandma, stop! Stop! I don’t want any of that on me,” as the fake tears started to roll down his eyes that followed with cries and the whimper of a little boy’s rebelliousness for the agitation of being compelled to stand still for his mandatory grooming essentials. “Boy, if you don’t stand still and cut that racket out, you better -- and let Grandma put some lotion on your dry tail,” she said in a way that could be taken as a threat. “Shy as you is, how do you expect to go somewhere looking like a homeless child? No, sir, not my baby. As long as God give me the will to see another day, you will learn how to keep yourself up, and carry yourself as a respectful young man with a good moral upbringing. I’ll see to it, if that’s the last thing I ever do,” Grandma said, with seriousness in her voice.

She was a God-fearing woman with a down-Southern accent. She was beautiful in every aspect of its meaning, and educated. She spoke words that were beyond my comprehension. She was caring, trustworthy, forgiving and loving.

“Too loving and forgiving,” I criticized many times in the silence of my thoughts. As I tried hard to keep the tears flowing down my eyes, she paid no attention to my pathetic performance. “Now wipe them phony tears off your face and let Grandma see that handsome smile,” she demanded. I wondered to myself for a few seconds to how did she know my tears weren’t genuine. I’ve always thought that she was the smartest woman in the world and possessed the answers to all my questions and problems, but I wasn’t about to seek an answer to that question -- no sir-ee! -- because it was a possibility that I might be setting myself up for failure, an’ a butt-whipping might accompany the answer for my deceitfulness.

During the years, she embedded her teachings and beliefs into my subconscious, but my outlook on life was different from hers. I was spiteful, selfish, untrusting, and harvested a negative outlook on life as well as people. It had to be my way or no way. I was quick to turn up my nose, ruffle my face expression, and deny a person my helping hand. I trusted no one but my Grandma. She was quick to come with a cliché when she noticed my behavior towards other people. She normally would come straight out and let me know when she wasn’t in approval of my ways. “Baby, you need to stop being so selfish, and learn to love your fellow neighbors. Like the Bible says, ‘God don’t like ugly and He sees all that you do.’ You can’t hide noting from Him, because He knows everything,” she would say.

Those same lines of words she would preach to me throughout the years. As I got older, my heart became loving. Her ways always kept a Kool-Aid smile on my face, even when there wasn’t anything to smile about. “Baby, I raised you well. You are a fine young man who’s going to make some lucky woman happy one day. You just make sure she’s a God-fearing woman and has a loving heart,” Grandma said.

I looked into the mirror that hung on the wall above the smaller Armani leather sofa in the living room. I admired my handsomeness, my smooth caramel complexion and brown eyes that match.

Time seemed to have gone by so fast. Just five years ago I was only ten years old and now I’m almost a man, standing at the height of six feet. I thought that I was God’s gift to women. As conceited as I was, I was surprised that I had any female friends. I glanced at my No Question watch and advanced for the door. “Where you think you’ going, young man?” Grandma asked. I was just going down the street to hang out with a few friends, I explained. “OK, now don’t you be getting into any trouble. You know God is watching you, and don’t let them street lights catch you.” There she went with one of her old folks’ clichés again, I said to myself. Don’t let the street light catch me -- I understood clearly what she meant. She wanted me back inside the house before the street lights came on.

“I will be,” I said before exiting the house.
.....

“What’s up, folks?” James greeted me, holding out a clinched fist for some dap. We both taped fists an’ gave each other a hug. “What brought you this way?” James asked. “I know you ain’t trying to get at some money?”

“You got that right. That’s what I’m not trying to do,” I admitted. “You know I don’t get down like that, fool.”

“Yeah, I know. Your grandma would beat you to death,” James said, with a light giggle, as if he found something humorous about what he had just said. “Well, you already know what’s up with me. I’m just trying to make a few dollars. I have about ten more stones I have to dump off and I’m calling it a day.”

“You need to slow your folks and stop selling that poison in the community. You not doing nothing but hurting yourself.”

“Now who in the hell you think you are, grandmamma’s boy? Jesse Jackson or Malcolm X or somebody? How a house nigga like yourself who’s always up under his Grandma all day and night goin’ to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be doing? Fool, you better miss me with that. Are you and your Grandma going to put food on my family table? Are y’all going to pay the house rent and clothe my little sistas and brothas?” James shouted out in anger. That’s what I thought; so take your Martin Luther King, Jr. ‘I Have A Dream’ speeches somewhere else and preach that bull to someone who might want to hear it.”

“James, my brotha, I used to be just like you, negative, and didn’t trust anyone, and I also had a lot of hatred built up inside of me, just like yourself. I guess that’s a phase we all go through when growing up in the ghettos, but we don’t have to remain that way. I want you to know I’m not against you. If you ever need my help, you can depend on me. I feel your pleas, though, but I’m about to floss over to this tender’s house and chill with her for a few. You are welcome to stroll along. She has an older sister that is a dime piece with the bomb body. She’ll give you some play if you got a cool mouthpiece.”

“I’m cool, folks -- I gots to get at this money.”

“OK, then I’m up out of here,” I said before throwing up a peace sign.

“Hey, you two, don’t either of you move. Stay right where you are,” said the deep voice of a man, who came out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” James said, as he looked around to see the face of the man who was talking.

“I said, don’t move,” the man yelled at James. That sent shivers up my legs. James dropped down his drugs that were in a small plastic zip-lock bang and kicked it to the ground where I stood.

“Folks, get that and make a break for it,” James said in a whisper, without moving his mouth, as if he was panicking. “Please, homie, I’m not trying to go to jail. If he find it, that’s where I’m going. I’m already on paranoid. I can’t afford to go back to prison. I got to take care of my family. They need me there with them. Just grab the sack and break through the yard. Come on, folks, you said if I ever need you, you will be there for me. I need you right now,” said James, sounding as if he was about to cry.

I thought to myself, “I did tell him that, and what if my Grandma found out that I didn’t stay loyal to my word?” I quickly grabbed the plastic sack from the ground and was in the wind. The tall Black man gave chase. I scaled the back fence with ease; he continued to give chase.

“Stop right there. I am a police officer!” he yelled at me, as if that was supposed to have any significance to me. I ran into the open street and ran like I was Jesse Owens in an Olympic race. The cop was in my dust.

I ran into my Aunt Bee’s yard and scaled her backyard brick gate. One jump and a push off from my hands planted on top of the bricks, and I was over the eight-foot gray wall; that put me into the backyard of my own house. I walked quickly to the front yard, still breathing hard, trying to catch my breath and compose myself before entering the house. I never gave a thought to look down the street to see if James was okay. My heartbeat was pounding fast. I walked into the house, hoping that my Grandma wouldn’t start questioning me, but she was nowhere in sight. That was a relief. I hid the drugs in a cabinet above the refrigerator that I know my Grandma would never go in. I knew if she had known I’d brought drugs into her house, she might have a heart attack after she finished trying to stomp a mud hole in me. I motioned for a glass from the dish rack and took the blue pitcher out the refrigerator and poured some of the grape Kool-Aid that it held. I emptied the glass as quickly as I filled it. I went and sat on the La-Z-Boy chair, turned on the screen TV and started watching BET, Comic View. My hearted continued to pound fast, beating like a bass drum against my chest. Years later, it continued to beat at that fast pace, and even now it’s beating with extreme adversity.
.....

So what have I done in my life that I wish I could do over? I have allowed myself to become a victim for people’s selfish and negative motives by allowing myself to become susceptible to my Grandma’s teachings of love, caring, loyalty, and being trustworthy, and if I had a chance to do it over, I would do it all over again the same way, but I would just run a lot faster.