For years, my mama kept my trophies, plaques, certificates and other accomplishments on display in the living room of our house in Lake Charles, Louisiana. I moved around so much as an adult, but whenever I came home, there they were. Elementary school through college.
My achievements were frozen in time. There was no social media back then to post them on or brag about them. If you wanted to see my glory, you had to step into that panel-walled living room with the blue carpet and plastic runner.
Hurricane Rita hit southwest Louisiana in 2005, destroying many of the family photos stored in bins in our attic. Fifteen years later, Hurricanes Laura and Delta came. What Rita didn't take, those storms seemed determined to finish.
The loss still clings to me. A few memories survived on old VHS tapes from college, which I recently had digitized through iMemories. Now, when I want a glimpse of the young woman I used to be—not just in a photograph, but moving, talking, and living—I turn on Emeracious Live.
That’s why, when I became a mother, I started documenting everything. Somewhere along the way, I created my own reality show starring my daughter. I call it The Amaya Show.
It has seasons, recurring characters, drama, comedy and one very opinionated star with increasingly strong feelings about the executive producer. And every good show needs a villain. Ours is Tracey Lynn, our Shih Tzu and Amaya's nemesis, whose greatest offense is stealing too much of Nana's attention.
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