IT’S MY LIFE — SNIPPETS
The Day Cicely Tyson Scolded Me
She was everyone’s Queen but on this day, she became my mother
It was my birthday. I’d taken off work, hoping for a day of fun, but my lousy excuse of a boyfriend was nowhere to be found.
Feeling sad and foolish once again — another birthday, another disappointment — I packed a small overnight bag, left my apartment in the South Loop, and walked over to South Michigan Avenue and 8th Street.
Standing at the bus stop on the corner, I planned to catch the #4 Cottage Grove bus for a long ride to the south side. I’d spend the afternoon with my father, and then head west towards Halsted Street to spend the night at my mother’s place.
I leaned against a lamp post, smoking a cigarette while casually surveying the bustling scene, when my eyes fell upon a woman several yards away flanked by two big guys on either side.
Although she was small, the ground rumbled with her every step.
She wore a bright, cobalt blue suit. A peplum-styled jacket with fabulously wide shoulder pads and a fitted, knee-length skirt. Dark hose. Dark suede pumps. Big gold earrings and shiny bracelets. Lots of them.
