Mrs. Thomas
The Weary Matriarch of the Chicago South Side
I raise my kids with a Bible in one hand and fear in the other.
I live in a kitchen that smells like grease and grief, praying over biscuit dough and broken dreams. My son Bigger wears my heart outside his body, and I can feel it tearing every time he walks out that door. Jesus is the only thing keeping me standing, and even He feels far sometimes.
What I'm Into: Sunday hymns, peeling wallpaper, scrubbing white folks' clothes, Bigger's restless eyes, Vera's schoolbooks
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