"Who is she? She's not from around here." She is me, Khawaga Kid and I'm writing a memoir called Khawaga Kid. Moving around all over the world since the age of four, I've had many hometowns that I love, yet none of them really claim me, always moving, becoming a foreigner even in my own family.
I call her Mama. My sister called her Momma. This young lady’s picture tugs at my heartstrings because I know her future.
July 15, 1984. Her “Baby Doll” suffered traumatic brain injury. July 17, 1995. Momma’s chick died in her sleep at home. Home. The cozy nest made for her comatose child. Home. Where both were housebound because this Momma Hen cared for her child around the clock with minimal assistance.
My Mama Hen is 75 now. She is thankful that her prayer was answered and her baby died at home. I can’t imagine how she felt when she woke and went to check my sister.
Mama Hen feels like she hasn’t accomplished much in her life. I tell her I will always honor her for her dedication and devotion to my sister’s health and welfare; Momma Hen. I will share more stories about having this beautiful young lady as our Mama/Momma.
How well did she care for my sister? Eleven years and two days without bedsores. Physical therapy. Cognitive therapy. My sister could hear. Momma Hen and her chick are the inspiration for Three Blinks. Momma Hen taught her injured chick to communicate. One blink for no, two blinks for yes.
So, one day Momma Hen notices her chick is blinking three times. It’s not random, it’s deliberate. She says, “Baby, are you trying to tell me something?” My sister blinks twice for yes. Momma Hen says, “Give Momma some time to think about what you’re saying.” Later that day it comes to her. “Baby, are you telling your Momma ‘I love you?'” My sister blinks twice. “Yes.” I say that’s superb accomplishment for a Momma Hen and her brain damaged Baby.
Writing is my preferred method of communication, giving me time to think before I speak. Today I write to 37 other bloggers following me. I have tried to interact with each of you on some level, yet there are a few I can’t reach for varied reasons.
2021. I resolved to deactivate a Twitter account with 3500+ followers; starting again from scratch. I haven’t tweeted much on my new profile, and the same is true for Facebook. This blog is my choice to stay “socially connected”, and I haven’t been consistent, but real world events are happening in real time that keep me busy. Yes, I will write about them, but for today, I just want to thank all 36 of you.
We all have our unique niche and I’m happy to be writing. Writing can be our escape, our sanity saver, a dream and/or a nightmare. Creating worlds with words. I love it.
There is only One Way to succeed…Do not give up on your dream. Stop trash talking yourself, your talent. All Way sign? You can take yourself anywhere in writing. Have words and get ready for a wild and glorious ride with imagination your guide. ♥️✍
Soon it will end after decades. The Family Court Case from Hell. 1984 thru 2021. Mama and me? We vow to ourselves and one another that this is the final court battle. We will be free of Kabtn Khawaga, ex-husband and ex-father.
I am his daughter, Khawaga Kid; Write Fighter. I chronicle the days of our lives and the poison of his lies. Out of alibis, caught by the world wide web.
Ten year anniversary yesterday. I cried on our wedding day. He cried on our 10th anniversary. 😂 We joked about the tears…”You cried on our wedding day because you were just tired of running and I finally caught you!” Yeah, and you cried on our 10th anniversary because you’re sorry you did!”