Poppy seeds
If you’ve known me for a minute, or if I’ve divulged my background to you, you know that I recently underwent a metamorphosis: Josh Crews to Julia Scott. Scott is my mother’s maiden name so it may seem like an attempt to reach for my inherent femininity, but there’s a bit more to it than that. Growing up I hated myself, almost everything about myself I hated. This hate permeated in such a way as to affect every interaction I had with other people. None of them were genuine. My family was all over the place, New York, Kentucky, Virginia, and none of them really felt like home. I was lost and saw no way out. I remember the holiday season rolled around and I dreaded it. Something about everyone being so happy and expecting me to be happy just pissed me off. My parents let me know Christmas was going to be special, this Christmas we were going to Florida. This was about a decade before I would call Florida my home, so this was a trip into the unknown. We travelled in our 2006 Honda Odyssey down state lines. The first stop was in northern Florida where we would see my father’s family, the Crews crew. They were white trash, plain and simple. They were nasty drunks, poor as shit, probably strung out constantly. They had a dysfunctional dynamic, it felt like they were always ready to explode. If I went into some of the things I saw and/or experienced, you’d wonder why I haven’t pressed charges. At the time though, I didn’t let any of it phase me. After that shit show, we travelled further South, down to Palm Beach County. Jupiter, Florida felt like a jungle to me. There were trees blocking out the sky, coconuts falling from their branches. I saw lizards almost the size of my puppy. We pulled into a driveway and waited for a man with the biggest smile you could imagine to open the gate for us. You see, we were at MeeMaw and Poppy’s house, my mother’s parents. The man opening the gate was none other than Poppy himself. We hop out of the car and all give him a big hug. There’s youth in his voice as he makes fun of my little siblings for not understanding his thick Jamaican accent. He turns to me and ask if I can understand what he’s saying, and I nod my head up and down vigorously. There’s something about his smile and laugh that’s just infectious. He pats me on the back and calls me a, “good man.” For a brief moment I see a glimpse of who I want to be.
Edward James Barry Scott was my grandfather, and he died this year. I sometimes have a hard time feeling things in the moment, so while everyone else was inside the funeral home, I snuck out to indulge in a cigarette. My cousin followed me out and for the first time in years the thought, “Oh shit what if she tells my parents,” popped into my head. Instead of coming out to snitch, she asked if she could take a drag of the cigarette. I oblige, we talk, and for the first time in years I feel close to one of my cousins. After a bit we head back inside, I had to be in early as a pallbearer. A few hours later, I’m zoning out at the first Scott family reunion in years. We had just buried Poppy, and now were at an old family friend’s house. Traditional Jamaican food was made, curry goat, oxtail, sorrel, and so on. It was all amazing but I was in a state of shock. I ate, I talked to my cousins as much as I could, and then sat inside alone, slowly reverting back to that same child who hated himself. A few hours later, I’m grabbing the car keys to go for a drive to clear my head. I start speeding for a little bit, not thinking of anything besides my grandfather. Suddenly I hear sirens and see flashing red and blue lights behind me.
It has been almost two months since the funeral. For the first month I was dealing with some heavy shit, the kind of shit that takes precedent over every thought process. This past month though, I have had nothing but free time to reflect. I’ve been working at your house for a few weeks now. We’re fixing it up to sell. It feels like a goodbye to my childhood. The mango trees, the vegetables growing in the back, everything makes me think of you. We replaced the gate that you always used to open, now its automatic. There is no more smiling man ready to swing it open for us. Duke bit a neighbor yesterday, well Duke 2. I still remember going to put down the first Duke with you, I had never seen you look so sad. Duke 2 has been wandering the neighborhood in your absence, looking for someone to show him the love only my ninety something year old grandfather could. Anyway, he bit someone yesterday and the sheriffs were called on him. Thankfully they didn’t take him away, they just put him on quarantine for a little bit. I don’t know if MeeMaw knows you’re gone. I’m not sure how much she knows at all anymore. I drink Dora’s fresh mango juice and think about stealing rum from you when I was younger to mix it with. I’m sober now, and I don’t steal anymore either. I’m never going to get a chance to introduce a partner to you. I feel like understanding me is impossible without knowing the man I mirrored for years. In 2023 we lost Edward Scott, but gained Julia Scott. I hope I can make you proud Poppy.
Edward James Barry Scott was my grandfather, and he died this year. I sometimes have a hard time feeling things in the moment, so while everyone else was inside the funeral home, I snuck out to indulge in a cigarette. My cousin followed me out and for the first time in years the thought, “Oh shit what if she tells my parents,” popped into my head. Instead of coming out to snitch, she asked if she could take a drag of the cigarette. I oblige, we talk, and for the first time in years I feel close to one of my cousins. After a bit we head back inside, I had to be in early as a pallbearer. A few hours later, I’m zoning out at the first Scott family reunion in years. We had just buried Poppy, and now were at an old family friend’s house. Traditional Jamaican food was made, curry goat, oxtail, sorrel, and so on. It was all amazing but I was in a state of shock. I ate, I talked to my cousins as much as I could, and then sat inside alone, slowly reverting back to that same child who hated himself. A few hours later, I’m grabbing the car keys to go for a drive to clear my head. I start speeding for a little bit, not thinking of anything besides my grandfather. Suddenly I hear sirens and see flashing red and blue lights behind me.
It has been almost two months since the funeral. For the first month I was dealing with some heavy shit, the kind of shit that takes precedent over every thought process. This past month though, I have had nothing but free time to reflect. I’ve been working at your house for a few weeks now. We’re fixing it up to sell. It feels like a goodbye to my childhood. The mango trees, the vegetables growing in the back, everything makes me think of you. We replaced the gate that you always used to open, now its automatic. There is no more smiling man ready to swing it open for us. Duke bit a neighbor yesterday, well Duke 2. I still remember going to put down the first Duke with you, I had never seen you look so sad. Duke 2 has been wandering the neighborhood in your absence, looking for someone to show him the love only my ninety something year old grandfather could. Anyway, he bit someone yesterday and the sheriffs were called on him. Thankfully they didn’t take him away, they just put him on quarantine for a little bit. I don’t know if MeeMaw knows you’re gone. I’m not sure how much she knows at all anymore. I drink Dora’s fresh mango juice and think about stealing rum from you when I was younger to mix it with. I’m sober now, and I don’t steal anymore either. I’m never going to get a chance to introduce a partner to you. I feel like understanding me is impossible without knowing the man I mirrored for years. In 2023 we lost Edward Scott, but gained Julia Scott. I hope I can make you proud Poppy.