Grandma: What are you reading?
5yr old Britt: A book about the planets. I want to be an astronaut when I grow up"
Grandma: Really! That's good baby. Knowledge is the best way to prepare for that journey. 

Memories of my grandmother are moments comprised of extreme exciting entertainment. My maternal grandmother was unpredictable, unlike my fathers' parents! Think of the black-footed cat from Africa. It's cute and teacup size but also the wolds deadliest cat possessing a hunt success rate of 60%. Observing my maternal grandmother was like watching a movie with the most twists and turns you could ever imagine. When Martha was on babysitting duties you were guaranteed the recipe for the best thriller! 

Recipe: Martha thriller a-la mode 
1 cup of drama equalling 1 guaranteed flip out moment
1/2 cup of a mental breakdown sesh 
2 cups of an awww moment which cancels out everything you just witnessed while you ate your popsicle and watched the show.  

Every Friday or sick day was comprised of this recipe whether she was triggered by her uncle, my grandfather, Claude, or my cousins. Despite everything regardless of the chaos, my grandmother taught me the importance of knowledge, determination, and endurance. Although my grandmother wasn't as elegant as my father's mother she was the most resilient grandparent I had. My grandmother was a single parent of four children and managed to get purchase her own house, car, and pay for higher education in the '50s. Resilience endowed from my grandmother is the leading motivator that empowers me and my desires
“The room of astronomical knowledge”  will be the third artwork in the "Home Sweet Home" series dedicated to my grandmother. Within the artwork lies her living room as I remember it from my childhood. Her living room reflects the 70s esthetic possessing brown shag carpets, a golden couch, and shiplap walls. Although her home is different than I remember it I will forever be known as a place of sprouting knowledge.  My hope now is in viewing  "The room of astronomical knowledge” will bring you, the viewer feel the same magnitude of empowerment I first experienced in this room while I imagine the untold stories of space.​
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As a child, I always felt alone unless I was with my grandparents. My brother is eight years older and he had his endeavors, my parents were older when they had me, and I was the only kid in my neighborhood. When I think back on my childhood I was misunderstood and I was bullied my kindergarten year until third grade when I switched schools. While I was in elementary I never quite fit in with the boys or girls in my class. The boys thought I had coodies and the girls wanted me to conform to their demands. Demands such as give me your Lunchable sticker or I won’t be your friend go tell this guy I love them and then I’ll really be your friend if you don’t do what I tell you then we won’t talk to you. I refused to be their flunky so I opted to be alone. When I tried to tell my teacher what was happening the teacher would just say don’t be a tattletale. I genuinely for the life of me had no idea why these girls when out of their way to make my days at school miserable. I never told my parents or my family what I was going through. I thought if my teacher didn’t care why would my parents. The only adult I told about my situation was my maternal grandma.

Grandma: "What’s wrong baby?"
6-year-old Britt: "These girls are mean to me in school."
Grandma: "Really! What do they do?"
6-year-old Britt: "They won’t play with me and make fun of me in front of the other kids. They talk about my hair and things I say."
(One of the reasons I don't wear braids as an adult)
Grandma: "The next time they make fun of you I want you to tell them this...."
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The next day I said exactly what my Grandma told me to say word for word to the Regina George of the group. Although I was able to express the internal aggression I possessed I was sent to the principles office by my grandmother's words.
When my mother came to pick me up the teacher told my mother what was said.
When the girls came over I proceeded to say “ You know what I’m tired of your sh*t! You can go ahead and say what you want now but by the time you turn 16 you’ll be stuck with a sh*t load of babies in a dead-end job alone with no one”. Looking back it might not have been the best thing to tell a six-year-old but it sure felt good! The girls were segregating me and treating me as an inferior individual. My grandma taught me how to stand up for myself because no one else would. She might have had brash solutions to any altercation but she was a fighter being a single mother of four. My grandmother's resilience continues to influence me when things seem gloomy. Although I'm a little scorned I'm grateful that it didn't affect me as badly as other people who have been bullied. My imagination was formed from instances such as this and I learned how to judge a person by their actions and not by the group​.