Mama Knows Best

An urban retelling of the Exile from Eden told from the perspective of a black family unit

Mama: “Where you at, baby?”
Child: “I’m here, mama.”
Mama: “What you doin’ o’er there?”
Child: “I was hiding, mama.”
Mama: “Why you hiding, honey child?”
Child: “Cause I’m ugly.”
Mama: “Who told you you were ugly? You’ve been hangin’ round that stump. I told you stay away from that place, baby. Why’d you not listen?”
Child: “Mama, my friend was there. I wanted to.”
Mama: “I told him to mind you. He’s not your friend, baby.”
Child: “What happens now?”
Mama: “I’m sorry, baby, but you can’t be here anymore. I gotta close this place for good. I love you, but you need to leave. When you’re ready, your brother’s gonna take you to our new home. Until then, you gotta learn to work—and I don’t mean something cushy. I mean blood, sweat, and tears. You’re gonna work ’til you can’t. You gotta get them hands dirty and callused; you’ll find bruises in places you never knew, and the thorns, especially, don’t care about what happens to you.”
Child: “But mama!”
Mama: “Be patient, baby. And mind yourself. Never forget where you came from. I love you.”