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Excerpts

It's been a few months since that terrible trouble with Devani, Aisha, Lexi, Molly and, 'course, Junior. Some people still buzz about the whole mess. Me, I just shake my head and keep on keepin' on. The thing is: Trouble and Bentley Manor always go hand in hand.

This place started off as a regular Atlanta apartment complex, but in the late '70s it was the ghetto, in the late '80s the projects. Now it's the hood.

My best friend, Osceola Washington, and I laugh about that sort of stuff. We joke about how we were Bentley Manor's first Desperate Hoodwives. Together, we try to keep an eye out on things 'round here -- but it don't do no good.

Folks gonna do what they wanna do.

For nearly forty years I've whittled the time away workin', strugglin', and watchin' my dreams pass me by; but with the Lord's help, I manage to hold my head high. Life is short, as they say.

Well, it is and it isn't.

Seventy-one years I've been blessed to be on this earth. I've buried parents, siblings, children, and even a husband. The young folk think hustlin' is new.

It ain't.

I've put in my hustlin' time, worked three jobs to support and raise four children. I don't know whether I've done a good job, though. I lost my oldest daughter to drugs, my two boys to the prison system, and I have no idea where the other one is.

Over the years, I've seen just about everything under the sun, which makes me wonder why I didn't see this coming. No point in being angry about it.

What's done is done.

As I lie here on this floor, watchin' the blood pour out of me, I feel a certain peace about all that's gone on before. One thang for sure: When you're dyin', your life does flash before your eyes. Now, I can't help but wonder if I coulda prevented what just happened.