I didn't want to say Big Ma was right. Cecile was no kind of mother. Cecile didn't want us. Cecile was crazy. I didn't have to.
Rita Williams-Garcia One Crazy Summer
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In the novel "One Crazy Summer" by Rita Williams-Garcia, the narrator grapples with the reality of her relationship with her mother, Cecile. The narrator struggles with feelings of resentment and betrayal, recognizing that Cecile's inability to accept her role as a mother has caused significant emotional pain. The character of Big Ma represents a contrasting maternal figure, showcasing the strength and stability that Cecile lacks.

The narrator's disdain for Cecile's actions and her acknowledgment of Cecile's mental instability highlight a deeper conflict within the family. This sense of rejection and the realization that Cecile's choices were influenced by her own struggles force the narrator to confront her feelings. Overall, this passage encapsulates the complex dynamics of motherhood and the emotional turmoil of seeking maternal love and acceptance.

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One Crazy Summer
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Rita Williams-Garcia
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Other quotes in One Crazy Summer

I didn't want to say Big Ma was right. Cecile was no kind of mother. Cecile didn't want us. Cecile was crazy. I didn't have to.
Rita Williams-Garcia One Crazy Summer
I didn't want to say Big Ma was right. Cecile was no kind of mother. Cecile didn't want us. Cecile was crazy. I didn't have to.
Although I didn't hear the door swing
Rita Williams-Garcia One Crazy Summer
Although I didn't hear the door swing
There was also one Anthony, whose mama could spell, and one Antnee, whose mama couldn't. It
Rita Williams-Garcia One Crazy Summer
There was also one Anthony, whose mama could spell, and one Antnee, whose mama couldn't. It
Cecile carried on a full conversation, on and on
Rita Williams-Garcia One Crazy Summer
Cecile carried on a full conversation, on and on
I remember a time when smoke filled the house. Not coughing smoke but smoke from a woman's smooth-voiced singing, with piano, bass, and drums. All together these sounds made smoke. Uncle Darnell would say, "You can't remember that. You were two. Three, maybe." But I do. I still see, hear, and feel bits and flashes. The sounds of musical smoke.
Rita Williams-Garcia One Crazy Summer
I remember a time when smoke filled the house. Not coughing smoke but smoke from a woman's smooth-voiced singing, with piano, bass, and drums. All together these sounds made smoke. Uncle Darnell would say, "You can't remember that. You were two. Three, maybe." But I do. I still see, hear, and feel bits and flashes. The sounds of musical smoke.
That was how I knew Sister Mukumbu was a real teacher, aside from her welcoming smile and her blackboard penmanship. She asked a teacher's type of question. The kind that says: Join in.
Rita Williams-Garcia One Crazy Summer
That was how I knew Sister Mukumbu was a real teacher, aside from her welcoming smile and her blackboard penmanship. She asked a teacher's type of question. The kind that says: Join in.
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Relationships and marriages are hard enough, but you add war into the mix and small fissures become gaping wounds. No one sees what you're seeing - again that clear-eyed, unbiased thing - except your fellow soldiers. It's like one of those movies where only the hero can see the ghosts and everyone else thinks the hero is crazy.
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Relationships and marriages are hard enough, but you add war into the mix and small fissures become gaping wounds. No one sees what you're seeing - again that clear-eyed, unbiased thing - except your fellow soldiers. It's like one of those movies where only the hero can see the ghosts and everyone else thinks the hero is crazy.
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