A Story told to me by my mother:
It is so very cold today.
I wish I had a warmer coat. I
know the times are difficult, I hear that from my aunt every day. I am supposed to be grateful they took me
in. I am supposed to be grateful I have
a dress to wear. I am to be grateful
they let me eat whatever they don’t eat.
I don’t want to cry, the tears running down my face will make
my cheeks red and raw. I will feel
colder. I wish the wind would not blow
so hard. I’m so glad I tied the dish
cloth around my head like a scarf. Aunt Irene
will be so angry with me when she finds I took it. The grass sounds like Rice Crispies when I
step on it. I
wish I could have some Rice Crispies.
There wasn’t any food left this morning after they ate.
I smell snow in the air, I wonder if it will snow today. I hope it waits till I get back to my aunt’s
house. It’s only two miles home but my
toes will be so cold, they will burn when I take my shoes off. I won’t be able to take the short cut through
the woods if it snows.
I can’t wait for spring, if it were spring, I would smell the
grass growing, when I walked, the ground would make squishy noises from the
rain during the night. I would be
finding the best stuff to munch on.
Violets are so delicious. The
flowers taste like little peppered bites and the leaves are the best salad I
could ever want. They don’t require
cooking to eat. Sometimes there is even
a mushroom or two. I shouldn’t think
about eating, it will only make me hungrier.
Oh, hello, I am scared. You are so beautiful. I want to reach out and touch you. Are you as hungry as I am? Please, let me go to school, I am getting
very cold standing here.
Did you know you are very smelly, very shiny, and very big. If you don’t eat me I will tell everyone
about you. I really need to go, I am
going to be late for school.
Thank you, I will tell everyone not to hurt you, that you did
not hurt me.
This is as it was told to me by my mother of her encounter
with a black panther on her walk to school through the swamp in the back woods
of southeast Missouri.
The year was 1932. She had been taken by her aunt when she was three years old because they thought her mother was incapable of taking care of her. Her mother had nine children. She was the baby. Her mom had been struck in the head with a baseball bat while she was milking their goat. I was told they never found the person who did it. She had a brain injury which left her with the mentality of a Twelve-year-old.
Her children were “farmed” out. One eight year old daughter ran away taking
her six year old sister and five year old brother. They lived in the woods, in a hunter’s shack for
two years. She fed and clothed them and took
them to school every day. Each Child has
their own story of loss and depravation.
cooking, poetry, prose and a little gardening,
Tutorial on how to make 5 panel Boxer Shorts.
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