Feed Sack Dress

Motherness.

Warm, soft, mushy hugs. 
Fine hair, gentle hands. Pouring out love, like rich, heavy cream, onto a plate. 
It drips off the edges and onto the shiny red maplewood table. 
I catch it with my hands, trying to get every drop. 
I don't want to waste any of it. 
I might even put my tongue right on the shiny surface and lick it up, 
like a cat.

     

      I think its polite to introduce yourself before you start telling people all about your life. So, I’m Anna Sue. When I get older I wanna change my name to a single name. Sue. Double first names are so common where I live. Plus, it makes me feel like a baby. When my mamma calls me, she draws out the last part, “Anna Suuuu” which sounds too similar to my brothers callin the pigs. “Souuuuuie.” I have two brothers, and they can be so, hmm, How do I say this? Well, not so nice. They make fun of me for ev-ry-thing. Like my knobby knees, my freckles, which cover my face, and my gangly arms.

      “You look like a swan lake dancer.” Miss Ellie, my fourth grade teacher said to me. I thought that was just plain mean. I didn’t know why she wanted to tell the whole class I looked like a duck. Ducks waddle. Their feet are huge, and their butts stick out when they walk. When I got home from school that day, I told my big sister Faye what my teacher said. She was standing in the bathroom putting on red lipstick, getting ready for a date. I sat on the edge of the bathtub looking over her shoulder.  

      “Anna Sue, she meant that you look like a ballerina.”

      “But I don’t dance.”

      “Well, you have the legs of a dancer.” She brushed her short blonde hair and then sprayed it all over with VO5.  

“When are you gonna give me a permanent, Faye?”

“In a few years. Your hair is too young.” She said, leaning closer to the mirror, inspecting her lips, rubbing them against each other, then puckering up as if she were kissing an invisible man.

      “You have to get the curse first.” She added.

      “But I don’t wanna get it.” I knew what she meant. The blood. I’d seen the rags soaking in the wash pan, once a month. Three sets.

      “You can’t stop it. And it’s what makes your chest grow.” She put her hands in front of her small breasts and pulled them away from her body like she was an expanding balloon.

      I have two big sisters. Faye, who just graduated from beauty school, is my favorite. She’s the oldest and she’s bossy, but in a good way. Melba, is only five and a half years older than me, but she acts like my mother. She wants everything clean, all the time. “Put your shoes on Anna Sue. Brush your hair Anna Sue. Go sweep off the porch Anna Sue.” She says all this while sitting at our small kitchen table thumbing through the Sears Catalog.

      Now about my brothers. Sidney, I call him Sid, is four years older than me. He's always in the woods. Tom is almost my twin. We both have “Indian cheekbones” and dark skin. Plus, we were both born in 1936. They drive me crazy most of the time. But sometimes my brother Tom and I have fun playing in the creek. He likes to catch crawfish and black spring lizards with his bare hands. I don’t really like to hold slimy things. I like to sit on a big rock  that’s half covered in soft green moss and look at the water moving by. I imagine where it’s going. Maybe to Atlanta, or Florida. I’m goin to Florida one day.

      My life isn’t pretty and shiny like a lot of peoples. We don’t have a car or TV. My mamma says it’s because daddy’s sick. He stays in the bed most of the time. He says his head hurts a lot. My mamma works at the cotton mill in Whitehall. She makes baby clothes. I love it when she brings home buttons. I like to string them on a piece of thread and make a spinner. I twirl it around real fast and it winds up. Then I pull the string on both ends and it unwinds.

      When mamma came home from work last night she was crying. She sat down at the kitchen table, put butter on a cold, hard biscuit and then started wiping her nose. I had fallen asleep in the rocking chair listening to the radio. She didn’t know I was lookin at her.     

2

      Last Saturday morning, that’s my favorite day of the week, I woke up the same time as my mamma. I smelled the bacon cookin. She only cooks that on Saturdays. Sometimes we have sausage, but I like bacon the best. I love wakin up to that smoky sweet smell. I was layin in bed next to Faye when the smell hit my nose. We sleep together in a double bed. Faye used to sleep on the couch, and Melba slept with me. But Faye’s boyfriend started sneaking over. They got caught kissing on the porch, so now Melba sleeps on the couch. Everybody knows that there ain’t a boy gonna come over and try to kiss Melba. For one, she’s too mean. And secondly, she swears boys are evil.

      “They make you do bad things.” When she says this Faye just rolls her eyes.

      “You just hadn’t met your match yet, Melba. You’ll change your mind.” Faye says, swinging her hips as she walks across the room, pointing her finger in the air.

      I’m glad about the new sleeping arrangement cause Melba sleeps with her knees up. I hate that cause they fall over in the middle of the night, like a tree fallin in the woods. It wakes me up but Melba sleeps through it.

      Faye doesn’t move in her sleep. Last Saturday, when the bacon woke me up, I looked at Faye for a long time before I got up, probably 5 minutes, studying her hair. Not one piece was out of place. I touched it with my fingertips, and it felt like stiff hay. It sure looked pretty though. Faye brushes my hair before we go to bed every night, which is another reason I love her. She tries hard to teach me about beauty.

      When I got to the kitchen, my mamma was scooping flour out of wooden bin and putting into her sifter.

      “Mornin Mamma.”

      “Mornin Anna Sue” she held the sifter and turned the tiny spinning handle without looking up at me.

      “That bacon sure smells good. Can I help?” I said, walkin up to the table where she had flour spread out.

      “I suppose. You can cut out the biscuits. Go get a glass from the cabinet.” She waved her hand in the air, without lookin up at me.

She took the flour dough ball out of the bowl and plopped it into the pile of four. A cloud rose up around her, like a fire had been set under the table. She pushed the ball down with her fist and mashed it around a few times. She pressed her lips together as she rolled the dough out with her rollin pin.

      “Get your glass Anna Sue.”

      “I already did, mamma.” I said, holding up the glass. She just hadn’t noticed. She seemed to be in another world. I pressed the glass right I the middle of the flat dough. Then, I cut out 5 more around it, like petals around a flower.

      “Anna Sue, you’re supposed to start on the top and go across so you don’t waste the dough.”

      “I know. But I wanted to make you a flower. You look sad.”

      “I’m not sad, just tired.” She turned away and coughed on her sleeve. She wiped her hands on her apron.

I lifted up the 6 biscuits and laid them on the iron skillet.

      “Can I put them in the oven?”

      “No, you might get burned. The pan his heavy, you might drop it.” She lifted it up and I saw her arm shake.

      “Let me try.” I touched her arm. “Please.”

      “Okay, use two hands. And put the biscuits in the middle, they’ll burn if you put them on the bottom.”

She scooped up the remaining dough and rolled it into a small ball, split it in two and put them on another small sheet and put them in the oven beside the other ones.

      “Are we going for a walk today?

      “If ya’ll get your chores done. We’ll go about 4 o’clock. It’ll be cooler then and the mosquitos won’t be out yet. Now go sweep your floor and wake up Faye, she needs to start the washing.” She looked out the window at the drooping clothes line.

      “Where are we gonna walk?” My question seemed to pull her back to me from some faraway place.

      “Over behind the cemetery.”

     

      I grabbed the straw broom and headed to my room. Faye was still sound asleep. The sunlight was coming through our window through the curtains mamma made out of the new flour sacks. They were blue and green. The curtains sagged in the middle. She used the same fabric to make me a dress last spring. For curtains, it wasn’t too bad. The loose weave let the light come through and gave the room a soft glow. As a dress, it made me look yellow. Lots of girls in my school had the same fabric, but next to their creamy peach skin, it looked beautiful. My olive skin, as Faye called it, that’s what she learned in beauty school, didn’t go well with green. “Too much green.” She instructed me.

      “You need reds, deep blues, rich burgundy Anna Sue.”

      “Well tell mamma that, she’s the one that makes my dresses.”

      “I’ll tell her, but you know she won’t listen. When I get a job at a hair salon, I’m gonna buy you a dress from Sears and Roebuck.” I knew she would. That was a couple of years ago, and I was holding on to that promise.

      I didn’t mind some of the home-made dresses. If’ I’d never seen a store bought dress, I don’t think I’dve cared. There were only a few of girls at my school that had the store bought ones. Leslie Ann Barnett wore a new one each week. And ribbons in her hair to match each one. She headed up the store-bought dress group. Then there were us, the home-made dress girls. And last, there were overall girls. If you didn’t have a dress, then you might as well cross off any hope for a future

      “Faye, mamma says you gotta get up and start the wash.” I patted her cheek and she opened one eye. I went to work sweeping our floor, and noticed a few rat droppings in the corner.

      “Get up Faye. Biscuits are ready. I helped make em. Come on.” I pulled the sheet off her shoulders and she swatted my behind as I darted out of the room.

      “All done.” I announced as I came back to the kitchen. Mamma was buttering the biscuits and put one a saucer for me. “Honey or jelly?”

      Why did she always ask me? I’ve asked for honey my whole life. Unless we had blackberry jelly. I guess being kid number 5 meant you always had to remind your mamma what you liked.

      “Honey. Do we still have clover honey?” I glanced on the shelf and saw the jelly jar was almost empty.

      “Yes, I got a new jar yesterday.” Mamma opened the quart jar of honey and dipped a wooden spoon down in it, she drizzled it on my biscuit and then put a little pool of it on my saucer. I wondered if you could swim in honey. A few flies buzzed around my head, and I swatted them with the rolling pin. I missed them, but they must have gotten the message not to mess with my honey, cause they disappeared.

      “Be right back Anna Sue, I’m going out to check the chickens.” Mamma said as she went out the back. The screen door slammed shut behind her.

      I  stacked my fists on top of each other, and rested my head on them. I stared down at my biscuit covered in butter and honey. I touched my finger tip to the honey and put it on the tip of my tongue. I closed my eyes and savored the flavor. I didn’t want start eating my biscuit, because I wanted it to last forever. But after a couple of minutes, I couldn’t wait any more, plus, I thought the flies my come back.  When I bit into the warm sweet, fluffy bread, I rolled it around in my mouth, with my eyes closed. This helped me  taste it better. I decided right then that heaven would definitely have a table full of warm biscuits drenched in butter.

      I heard the wood floor creak and thought my daddy must be getting out of bed.

      “Give me that!” Melba said, snatching the biscuit right out of my hand, sending crumbs to the floor. I hovered over the other half, covering it like it was a baby needing protection from a swooping buzzard.

      “Get your own!” I stated, feeling my stomach tighten around the little piece of heaven.

Then I heard a boom. It sounded like a large rock dropping on the floor. “Mamma!” I heard Faye’s voice.

      “Mamma, come quick!” Faye hollered again.

I got up from the table and headed to see what was wrong.

      Faye sat on the floor beside daddy in his bedroom. He was folded up on his side, right next to his bed. She was rubbing his back and yelling.

      “Daddy, daddy. Get up daddy!” I saw drool coming out of his mouth and the skin on his face sagged down almost touching the floor. I saw that his pant legs were wet and there was a strong odor, like the one coming from the hog pen, pushing into my face. He didn’t move. Faye rolled him on his back and tried to open his eyes with her fingers. She slapped his face with the back of her hand but he didn’t flinch. Melba was standing behind me, but ran out of the room when daddy didn’t move.

      “Go get Mamma!” Faye looked up at me.

      I ran through the kitchen and out the back door.

      “Mamma, come quick. Daddy fell. He won’t wake up.” I said while running towards the chicken pen. I saw her bent over, and as she stood up, she dropped the basket of eggs.

3

      She looked past me, walked out of the chicken coop, cupped her hands around her mouth and directed her voice towards the woods.

       “Sidney! Sidney Reese! Siiiidney!” She turned to me,  “Go to Nell Smith’s house and call Dr. Veal. Tell him to come quick!” Then she turned away from me and called for my brother, “Siiiiidney!”

      I stood watching her repeat this over and over again. My mother had just asked me to do something. But I couldn’t move my legs. I was the baby, the youngest, and while I had longed to be given some responsibility, at that moment, what she was trying to hand me was just too heavy. I stood waiting, hoping to hear Sidney call back to her. But, there was no reply from the woods.

      I stood by the door, waiting for something, I just wasn’t sure what. Maybe just to see my mother’s face. My mother took a couple of steps and put her hand on the post of the chicken coop. She leaned over, holding her stomach, and began to vomit.

      I’d never seen my mother throw-up. It scared me. I went back inside to tell Faye that mamma was getting sick. Before I could utter a word, the front door opened. It was my brother Tom. He was muddy from head to toe and disregarded the rule about leaving dirty clothes on the front porch.

      “What’s wrong?” He said. I’m guessing he saw the look of panic on my face.

      “It’s daddy. He’s fallen. And Mamma’s throwing up on the chicken coop. We gotta call the doctor. Where’s Sidney?”

      “He’s still in the woods, trying to catch the rabbit he hit with his sling shot.” He said, rubbing the front of his overalls, in a pointless effort to brush off the dirt.

      “Well somebody needs to get the doctor!” I hollered, at no one in particular. “Come on Tom. Let’s go.” I pushed past him and grabbed my shoes laying on the porch, I sat down and slipped them on, ignoring the laces. Tom grabbed my hand to help me up and we started running together.

I started down our dirt driveway towards the road. Nell’s house was only a mile away if we took the road. Tom still had hold of my hand and jerked me as we approached a trail in the woods. “Come on, it’s faster this way.” (This would cut the trip half.)

      “What’s wrong with daddy?” Tom asked as we entered the woods.

      “I’m not sure. He fell. He’s drooling. Faye slapped his cheeks but he wouldn’t wake up.”

      “That’s happened before, you know.” He said, lifting up a branch and holding it while I went underneath it.

      “Well, I think he messed on himself, too.” A briar caught my shirt and arm, but I ran on through it. I heard a ripping sound, and  felt my collar flapping against my arm.

      “That’s bad.” Tom said, in a serious tone.

My heart sank when he said that. I knew it was bad, but hearing Tom say it caused my blood to freeze in my feet. I felt a jolt of electricity enter my body, and I ran full out, past Tom, who I’d never out run in my whole life. I didn’t look behind me to see if he was keeping up. I could hear branches crunching and his breathing was hard, so I knew he was close behind.

      The edge of the woods was coming into view, along with Nell’s shiny black car that reflected the sunlight and nearly blinded me. I flew up on her porch and banged on the screen door. Tom stood beside me, holding his side, gasping for air.

      “Anna Sue, I didn’t know you could run like that.” He said, bent over.

      “Me either.”

Nell came to the door holding a cup of coffee, dressed like she was headed to church or a women’s meeting.

      “Well Anna Sue, what happened to you?” She said, touching my collar.

      “We need the doctor. Can we use your phone? Daddy’s real sick, I think.”

      “Of course, come on in. Ya’ll sit down. I’ll call him for you.” She motioned for us to sit on her couch. Everything in her house was so pretty and shiny. I noticed the mirror hanging opposite us and my reflection in it. My hair was going nineteen different directions, there was a streak of blood running down my arm, and my sleeve was torn, exposing my shoulder. Tom stayed by the front door.

      She walked into her kitchen and I overheard her voice.

      “Dr. Veal. It’s Nell. Weyman Ward is, she paused here, apparently, in a bad way this morning. Anna Sue and Thomas are here. Their mamma told them to call you.” She paused, then I heard, “Yes, uh huh, yes, I know. I’ll drive them back over. Yes, I’ll tell Hester you are on the way. Yes, I can make him some coffee.” I heard the phone hit the receiver.

“Come on you two.” Nell said, grabbing her bag. She went back to the kitchen and grabbed a brown paper sack. “Ya’ll have coffee at your house?”

      “No ma’am. We don’t.” I stood up and walked out of the house in front of her.

Tom frowned at me, then pulled my shirt back up on my shoulder.

      She opened the front door to her car and said, “Ya’ll hop in the back, Tom, try not to get it too muddy.”

      We rode in stiff silence back to my house. Nell was a good neighbor to us, always stopping by Sunday afternoons to bring us a cake, of some type, that she made for church. Since her husband died last year, she’d make food for church, but then would bring it to our house. She’d say, “I walked out the door and plumb forgot this cake, or roast, or chicken…”or whatever she’d cooked. At first, I believed her, but after a few weeks, I decided that she forgot on purpose. After she set the food on our table, her and mamma would go sit on the front porch and talk. I heard her say to Mamma many times, “Just keep praying Hester. It’ll get better. The Good Lord is watchin over you and these kids.”

      We pulled up to our house, and Nell calmly got out of the car.

      “Why don’t you two stay outside and I’ll go check on your daddy.” Tom and I looked at each other. “Yes ma’am.” We said in unison.

      We got out and went up on the porch. I paced back and forth and Tom sat on the front step. Neither of us said a word. I felt my throat get tight and my face was wet before long. Tears were running out of my eyes and I couldn’t stop them. Usually, I could hold back my tears. But this time, that wasn’t even a possibility. I heard Nells’ voice, kinda muffled, and then Faye’s. Tom walked off the porch and headed to the back.

      “Where are you going?”

      “I’m not sitting here waiting to find out if my daddy’s dead or alive.”

That was it. That was the reason I couldn’t stop crying. My daddy was old. I think he was 60. Really, he looked older than that. And the possibility that he was dying or already dead made me shake all over.

Multi-colored lady

How can Greg Allman know exactly how I feel? He wrote a song about a lady, in early 1973. As I listen to the melancholy melody, I'm certain he understood pain on a very deep level. It had been 2 years since the death of his brother. I think grief peaks at this point. The first year, you simply walk around in a fog, praying to get through another day. The second year, the black and white begins to turn back into color. As the colors begin to emerge, you see the beauty around you Then, you turn to tell the one you loved about the beauty, and realize they aren't there. So you sit down and cry.

Motherness

motherness. warm, soft, mushy hugs. fine hair, gentle hands. pouring out love, like rich, heavy cream, onto a plate. then it drips off the edges and onto the shiny red maplewood table. I catch it with my hands, trying to get every drop. I don't want to waste any of it. I might even put my tongue right on the shiny surface and lick it up, like a cat.