Willow by Tonya Cherie Hegamin EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Tonya Cherie Hegamin
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
September 10, 1848
Knotwild Plantation, Maryland
Dear Mama
I know you rest in heven in Gods cradle arms. Here, I am cradle by
the twisted bow of yor healing tree, one you name me for and birth me
under fifteen years ago today at the bank of this sweet river. The sun
shine itself down on the mountains like it cradle there too, in so much
comfort it turn the whole sky pink. It get harder to find such comfort in
this world without you, Mama. And since Granmam pass last year,
make it harder still. Now I only get held soft by this old tree.
Mama, I dremt it once that you was right here in this tree telling me
my mind is my nest and the thoughts my eggs. How very P-E-C-U-L-IA-R. That mean strange. Mama, you the bird who built this nest and
lay these eggs I think.
Granmam used to say that this here tree be the last of many to be
holding up the banks of this river. Chop a willow branch, she say, then
boil down the bark to ease all pains. She always say I pay more
attention to her medcine recipes than her food recipes.
Mama, I know you miss living here on the prettyest and most
prosprous piece of land in all Frederick County maybe even all
Maryland, specially since we got me the onlyest colurd girl who can
read and write and ride a horse like shes the wind.
Granmam would wash my mouth to humble me. . . .
No matter how good this type of free, no black girl meant to be so
much of herself they say.
I hope Rev dont miss this bit of grafite pencil and copybook I found
in his old schoolboy box in the attik. I was getting ink stains in my
nails and fingers and it do cost to replenish Rev’s supply. Papa
wouldve seen red to know.
Granmam would be shame to see the shabby state Rev house in. To
tell truth, now with her gone I read bold as I please even whilst doing
the chores specially when Rev Jeff be gone almost six month straight!
There be nothing in me to help it. The stories, they drunken me. I mus
try an be more careful — that be why now I only write way out here.
Papa dont mind me takeing Mayapple out so early, long as I bring
back willow bark and herbs for his sleeping tea, jus like you used to.
He miss you so, he barely breathe your name.
Dearest Mama, goodby for now. I only remember your face full, so
full of light.
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Prospero says in Mr. Shakespeare’s Tempest. I memorize the most
beautiful bits I read, tho sometimes the words be slick and stick to my
tongue like okra, just how they come slow as molassas out the pen.
Your most loving daughter
Willow
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