The Beginning of Anaïs

When it all started was the day Mama and Daddy packed up our whole life and moved us into Grandma Odette’s place. Mama and Daddy had fallen on hard times back then. Daddy, Elias Sinclair, had lost his job of fifteen years, and with no money comin’ in, we had to leave Mama’s hometown in Mississippi and head down to St. Martin Parish, Louisiana.

I remember steppin’ out that car like it was yesterday. I was six, wide‑eyed and barefoot, starin’ at everything like it was magic. And to me, it was. The air felt different, heavier, sweeter, and full of somethin’ old. Spanish moss hung low like it was whisperin’ secrets. The land felt alive in a way Mississippi never did.

Grandma Odette was Daddy’s mama. She and Mama never got along, but Mama had been raised to respect her elders, so she kept her mouth tight and her back straight. Truth be told, Mama wasn’t happy ’bout movin’ to Louisiana. She hated how the mosquitoes swarmed like they owned the place, how the alligators slid through the bayou like shadows, how snakes curled up in the grass like they was part of the scenery. Some folks find all that unpleasant or unsafe, but I found it to be a beautiful part of the natural rhythm of the land.

Everything ’bout Louisiana felt enchanted to me. Mama saw the opposite.

I bet Mama hated the place mostly ’cause of the people. She didn’t like how folks in the parish lived free  laughin’, dancin’, drinkin’, and prayin’ in their own way. She didn’t like how the nightlife spilled out into the streets, how music floated through the air even on a Tuesday. It rubbed her wrong. Mama was raised strict Baptist, and she held tight to every rule she learned. Marlene Sinclair‑Edmond believed in church the way some folks believe in breathin’.

That’s why Grandma Odette didn’t care for her.

Odette Sinclair was known all over St. Martin Parish as a seer. Her great‑grandmother Eulalie had dreams that guided whole families. The Sinclair women carried a gift, a sight, passed down through generations. They practiced a blend of Black Southern spirituality, Creole intuition, and old folk wisdom long before the church tried to silence it.

Grandma Odette wasn’t ashamed of her history. She didn’t hide it, didn’t whisper ’bout it, didn’t pretend it was somethin’ dark. She respected all kinds of religion and all kinds of practitioners. But Mama rejected every bit of it. To her, anything not of Jesus and God was either demonic or make‑believe.

We didn’t stay in Grandma’s main house. She had a little single‑family home sittin’ on her property; old, cozy, and close enough for her to keep an eye on us. She told Daddy we could stay as long as we needed. But Mama had a timeline in her head. In her mind, Daddy just needed to find a new job, save up, and then we’d go back to Mississippi.

That never happened.

Even when Daddy did get another job, he didn’t wanna leave. Elias Sinclair loved Louisiana. He loved his mama. And he wanted his baby girl, me, to know her roots, to feel the land that shaped the Sinclair women, to understand the gift runnin’ through our blood.

Unfortunately, Mama didn’t feel the same. And that led to a whole lot of trouble for me later on.