I looked up to find our neighbor, Ms. Davis. She was an older lady who was a good friend of our family. I adored her and she adored me. She was so fabulous. She was always “sugar sharp,” as the old folk would say. I had never seen her without a full face of makeup, complete with red lips; fancy, colorful earrings; and big, wide-frame sunglasses. She played her numbers in Mr. Wes’s spot and always came to family and community functions. She would call me “my baby” with a big smile as soon as she laid eyes on me. To this day, I refer to so many little Black girls in the same way when I run into
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