Again, ruminating.

TLP – Transitional Living Program.

That’s what they called it. Before we could be trusted to be let out on our own (but still under the state’s supervision), before we could be even considered for an Independent Living Program, we had to prove that we were capable of being self-sufficient, functional, upstanding(ish) members of society.

We were in Wilson* House. Essentially a 4 unit apartment complex (each unit with 2 bedrooms, each bedroom had a bunkbed) which DCFS had given permission to rent out (i.e agreed to pay for) as a TLP for girls between the ages of 16-18. One unit was set aside for staff members to occupy, because after all, these girls were not yet trustworthy enough to be on their own. Anyway, the idea was to give the aforementioned wards a taste of adulthood and the accompanying accountability with which it came.

What it actually was… A 4 unit apartment complex with 12 teenage girls who gave zero fucks for rules and accountability.  A myriad of backgrounds, attitudes, gang affiliations, abuses, and overall baggage, not to mention raging fucking teenage female hormones – I carry the memories of that place with both hesitance and fondness. I could recount the numerous in-house rebellions, fights, and all the other related drama, but today I’m thinking of Aiesha.

Or “A” as she liked to be called. Understandably.  A couple years previous, the song, Iesha had been a huge hit and there’s only so many times a person can handle people rapping the same song again and again involving your name right at your face. In any case, A was the sweetest and funniest girl in that volatile environment. Such was her aura of genuine affability, not one person, staff or resident, ever had any ill thought or feeling against her.

I remember her tiny little body bouncing in, “Hey C!!!”, Backwards hat, oversized tee, basketball shorts, giant grin and smiling eyes. She was swimming in her tomboy clothing, but that was the style then and to her, it came natural. I liked her. I was sincerely fond of A’s happy-go-lucky demeanor despite the fact that she was in the same madhouse as the rest of us, sullen and sulking, hatching schemes on how to get away with breaking curfew, how to get out of this TLP bullshit and into our own ILP studios. We all felt like we were ready. We were “grown”.

We were fucking idiots.

But A, always the one At Her Own Pace, she wasn’t in a rush. Time and again, she’d nonchalantly advise against trying to leave so quick. “Ladies! The world will still be hungry for y’all ig’nant asses next week, too.” Always with a smile and a chuckle so it was never taken as malicious or mean-spirited. Because she wasn’t. We passed our time mostly playing Spades and joking about the one lesbian of the group who was trying to sleep with all of us, “Nah C, it’s been a long time, but I’m into dick!” and I could have died laughing at her delivery. I let her braid my hair once – and that was a particular torture which I will never forget. I taught her how to cook grits so they wouldn’t come out lumpy. Low heat, cream and constant stirring with that whisk, girl. She didn’t involve herself in the pettiness of the female shit-talking, which honestly is a rarity among women, teenage girls even moreso.

We eventually all got placed. One would leave, another would slip in and claim their bunk/room. A new girl to get used to. It was only a matter of time before A was gone, too. It was amazing to me the amount of change in the general atmosphere of the home when she left. Huh. I wasn’t there much longer. I just upped and left. I wouldn’t say her being gone was a deciding factor, it truly wasn’t. Though I did miss her brightness. I was simply a 17 year old girl who had enough of idling by. Funnily, my “going on run” actually got me placed – because the powers that were needed good numbers. (I would have made for a bad statistic.)

That is the summary of it. I think of many people often, but on days like this, days when I am lost in thought and I find myself slipping into some of the sadder and more painful memories of my past, it’s nice to have an Aiesha as a reminder that there were still good people who found their way into lighting the darkness for many. That there ARE still good people doing that presently. It’s a small blessing dropped into the larger cruelties of Life.

I hope A never changed. What a horrible loss that would be.

*name changed because reasons