We ain’t have nothin' on the shelves that mornin' and nothin'
in our stomachs for better part of a week.
Mama woke that mornin' determined to change that. She woke me early.
“Wake up Syreet,” she whispered in my ear so not to wake my little sister and
baby brother sleepin’ next to me.
“Mama,” I say,
rubbing my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She put her finger to her lips. “Don’t wake the chilren, get
up and get dressed.”
I nodded and moved slowly out the bed. I quickly got dressed
and followed Mama out the room. It was dark in the house but she had a candle lit on the
table. Her head was down when I walk in the room. I ain’t seen Papa, but I’s heard him snorin’
from the back. I walked over, thinkin’ I heard Mama cryin’.
But when I’s come up beside her she raised her head. “Syreeta.” Her eyes glazin' in the candle light.
“Mama, you
okay?”
She kissed my face. “Let’s take a look at you,” she said,
smilin’. It wasn’t a smile that reached her sad brown eyes. But Mama was always sad. She stood. “Here wash your face and rinse
your mouth, I brought in some water.”
That was my job to fetch water for the house. I known then
that whatever was goin’ on it was important. “Yes ma’am.” I did like she told me, then she sat me down
to comb my hair.
“Where we going
Mama,” I asked, needing to know somethin', but she shush me.
“Got to go to town,
do some business.” She whispered, “We needs to look presentable not like we’s
poor.”
Everyone knows we’s
poor, Papa don’t wurk and when he does it ain’t for long. He ain’t wurk in
weeks. Mama havin’ to go out and wash clothes for white folks, but they ain’t
paid her.
When she done, Mama
looks at me. “You’ll do.” She said and
kissed my face again.
It was still dark when we walked out the house. The air was
full with the scent of honeysuckle and cow dung. Mama grabbed my hand and we started the long
walk up the road to town.
The road was dark, and quiet for the most part. Mama seemed
caught up in her thoughts. An owl hooted, then went silent as it caught
wind of its prey. The sounds of night creatures welcomed our path of silence. I picked up a stick and was breakin’ up any ant hills along
the way as I walked behind Mama.
She cased a long shadow in the moon light. Mama was tall, but
not like a man, with soft dark skin mournful eyes and beautiful broad features.
She plaited her thick hair in cornrows; and wore her old flower dress that shirted the top of
her thick worn booths.
The sun was a peekin’ it’s head from the horizon when Mama
decided to stop just out of town. “Go pee Syreeta,” she told me, as she headin’
for a tree herself.
“But I’s ain’t got to go,” I told Mama.
“You know we’s can’t go in town.” She was makin' sure I peed
be’foe hand. Mama said,
“Ain’t no tellin’ how long we’s be standin' around out there waitin' for Mrs.
Washington to let us in, best go now.”
She waved her hand for me to go, so I’s went behind a tree
too. When I come out, Mama waitin’ there for me. “Syreeta
we’s need to talk,” she said. It look' did like her eyes got sadder.
“Okay.”
We sat down on a stump and Mama took my hand. “Baby, I’s
known you understand things, you got eyes you see.” I nodded, and she smiled.
“I suspect better than your Papa and me with all you learnin’.
I smiled too. “I like school,” I’s tell her.
“I know baby,” she stopped smilin’. “That’s what I’s want to talk about. You know
Papa ain’t found wurk and I don’t know if’ven I get paid. We’s goin’ to town to
see Mr. Washington.”
I knew he's the own the
general store; we were goin’ get some food. My mouth watered, I’s was hunger
from the walk.
“I’s goin’ ask to see if’ven he’ll give us some credit.”
I’s nodded.
“You understand if’ven Mr. Washington don’t give us credit
I’s don’t know what we’ll do come winter. I suspect your Papa could go huntin’
but he gon’ need buck-shot for the
rifle. Then there’s meal and sugar, beans… ” She was wonderin’ off in thought.
“ Mama I’s understand, you go’ ask Mr. Washington for credit
for the winter.”
She turned to look at me strange like, “No baby, you don’t understand.”
Tears swim in her eyes now.
“I’m a'ask, but I’s don’t suspect they’ll give us what we’s need. Your Papa….”
She stopped, decidin’ not to say what she plan to say about Papa. “ Times a’
hard all around Syreeta,” she continued.
“We’s need you to help.”
“I’ll help Mama,” I’s told her quick. “I’ll look after the
chilren, I’s always do.”
“And you’ve don’ a fine job, but… the family needs you to
wurk Syreet.”
“Wurk! I’s got to leave school!”
I ain’t want to leave
school. Mama and Papa, they were slaves;
they couldn’t learn ‘causin’ they Master said they couldn’t. But I’s free! I’s can learn just like white folks!
I started crying.
Mama nodded, tears a river down her face too. “I’s know
baby, lawd knows I know. I ain’t never been schooled. I’s proud to have my child read to me, teach me
words and all. But times a’ hard Syreeta.We need you helpin'.”
She reached over and held me. “I’s sorry baby.”
We’s cried together as
the sun lit the mornin’sky.
Copyright © 2013 Glynis Rankin
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