I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,--and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings'.
I could see the remnants of what we had for dinner still sitting in their dishes waiting to be put in the refrigerator. My sister Eliza, whom I called Liza Beth, had been napping on the sleeping porch when she realized that it was getting dark. “Come help me with these dishes, will ya?” she said as she picked up one of the large crocks that held iced tea and put it back in the refrigerator until the next meal. As I stooped over the sink scrubbing at some stuck on crust from the baked chicken we’d had, my sister began telling me about the things she’d seen in town. “And that Mr. Cummings, what a delightful feller! Do you know what he asked me?” she asked, obviously referring to something she had said while I hadn’t been paying attention. “Lilly Ann! Did you hear a word I said?” I looked at my sister vaguely, which was unfortunately she took to be my reply. I realized my mistake, and immediately began to try and make up an excuse for it; “I’m sorry Liza. I’m just so tired. Maybe I should get on to bed.” I looked over at her, hoping that she would believe me. Eliza glared at me, “Don’t think some silly excuse is gonna get you out of doin’ the dishes! You make me so mad sometimes, Lilly Ann! Always acting like you’re too good to do the same chores that Violet and me do every day! Just because you were raised like some hoity toity little spoiled brat in some big ol’ apartment in the big city doesn’t mean squat! You’re just like one of us now, so you can get over it, and get back to work!” Outbursts like this were not unusual from my sister, so I continued scrubbing pots as she marched out of the room fuming. Ever since I had moved from living with my father in Dallas, to the little town of Big Valley at the edge of the Texas hill country, I had been perceived as a city slicker, or some kind of snob. When I was three, my mother ran away with a bull rider from Santa Fe. Shortly afterward, my father took me, my sisters, and my older brother to live in Dallas where people were “more civilized” as he put it. Though, in my experience, this was far from reality. Well, when Eliza and Violet were in their early teens, they moved in with our aunt and uncle here in Big Valley because they had become homesick to the point of depression. Every summer, my father would bring my brother Jimmy and I down to the farm to spend the summer with my sisters. No one ever told me why my sisters moved to Big Valley, or what became of my mother, but I don’t suppose I ever really asked. My father died of cancer about six months ago, and so now I was here in Big Valley, finishing up high school, and learning to get along with my sisters.