By the time Mom got the letter
her father was buried.
She went outside and sat on the back steps
all morning.
Flies buzzed around her head.
It was hotter than hot.
Hogs were screaming
as they were herded into the chute
that led them to death.
It made me so mad I could spit nickels!
Poor Mom couldn't even cry for her Dad in peace.
Daddy was sleeping.
He was always tired out
from his job as a nightwatchman.
I fixed bread and butter and sugar
for lunch
for me and the boys.
Then I did up the breakfast dishes.
A cockroach fell off the ceiling
into the dishpan.
I didn't yell and carry on
like I usually did
because I was nervous about Mom.
After a bit I peeked out at her.
I could see sweat running from under her bun
down the back of her neck.
Her head was in her hands.
That afternoon some church ladies came to visit Mom
and they brought her a picture of Jesus to hang over the couch.
Mom was flustered at first
because her eyes were swollen
and her cheeks were blotchy.
She told them about Tudaddy.
How she didn't even get to go to his funeral.
The ladies fussed over her
and asked me for an icepick
so they could make Mom some icy cold water.
She perked right up
and thanked them for the picture and the water
and apologized for the messy house
and for not having any cookies to serve to them.
They patted her hair and hugged her
and said, "Why, this house is spotless!"
and, "It's too hot to eat cookies!"
and, "We're too fat to eat cookies anyway!"
That night when I crawled onto my cot and pulled the mosquito netting
tight
to keep the bugs off
I prayed my first prayer that I didn't have to think about!
I prayed, "Thank you, Jesus, for church ladies".
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