Rosa was not like any other African American woman. She always stood for what she believed in no matter the consequence. I’ve always known that she’d be a handful but I would always love her.
The first time I have met her was when me and my other NACCP brethren went house to house collecting money for the Scottsboro Boys. When our eyes met, I knew it was love at first sight. I also felt that she felt the same about me. Soon enough we got to know each other more, and then I proposed. In 1932 we got married in her mother’s house. It was that day when her name changed from Rosa Louise McCauley to Mrs. Rosa Louise McCauley Parks.
Several months after we got married, I urged her to continue on with her education and finish college. Being one of the 7% of African Americans, she graduated in 1933. Then she found a job as a seamstress in the local tailor shop. I was always a barber. Our only transportation to work was the bus. We’d have to go every morning and wait at the bus to come, and then go off to work. Rosa would come back from work before me, finish a few chores, and prepare dinner. When I would arrive home, I’d find dinner already made. After dinner, I would help out with the remainder of the chores, like wash the dishes.
One day everything went on as usual, until I came home. I couldn’t find my Rosa. Naturally I would worry right away, but I assumed that she was out getting some groceries. An hour passed and she still didn’t come. I continued to wait more but I began to worry. More time passed and it started to get dark. I was worrying even more. As I peered out of the window, I still didn’t find Rosa, but I did find much commotion. With the curiosity racing through my mind along with the worry, I forced myself to check out what was going on. After several slow steps forward, I was stopped by a large African American woman with a tattered blue dress. What she told me not only left me with more worry, but with dead shock. Rosa, my beloved Rosa, was in...