A Portrait of Mommy

At the age of five, I was under the watchful eye of my babysitter, Cora. There were always ladies sitting around gossiping and this day was no different. Although I was just a young child, I began to pay attention when I heard mom’s name mentioned in their conversation.
“I’m going over to her house tonight and speak to her about going off with my husband,” Cora said as she looked suspiciously at the other ladies. She appeared troubled.
The conversation began to escalate as the ladies chattered back and forth while filling Cora’s mind with information they heard about mom. As Cora listened attentively, she appeared to be in deep thought. Then I remembered hearing her say, “I’m going to kill her.”
Mom picked me up from the sitters about evening time and as we were walking down the dirt road I didn’t say very much. I was trying to keep up with mom’s hurried pace to get home to meet daddy. After arriving to the house and settling in, I began to recall what I heard earlier at the babysitter’s. “Cora was talking about you mom,” I blurted out excitedly, “she said she was coming to the house tonight and kill you.”
Mom looked at me in a surprised manner as if I was confused, “Go ahead Peas and sit down,” she said sharply, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She went to the kitchen area to start the fire on the wood stove. She layered pieces of old brown paper bags, a few twigs and splinters to start the fire and then laid blocks of wood on top. As she prepared dinner daddy was performing his nightly duty by starting the fireplace. He heard me speaking to my mom about what Cora said, but never spoke a word. I sat at the table watching daddy, longing to get up and play. After getting the fire started daddy turned to me and asked, “Do you want to go out to the back yard with me and check out the chickens?”
“Yell,” I answered. I immediately jumped out of my seat and followed him out the door. I loved checking on the chickens to see if they laid eggs. I picked them up and held them like babies. I was so amused by my chickens and couldn’t be happier than talking and playing with them each day. I also had the opportunity to visit my playhouse that daddy built for me. It was one full room with a stove and table and stood right outside of the kitchen door. Mom often called out to me as I played and asked “what are ya cooking?”
“Ham and eggs,” I’d answered as I pretend to cook over the stove. I loved playing house; it was so much fun.
After collecting a few eggs that evening, daddy and I went back into the house to wait for dinner. It wasn’t too long before mom served us at the table. I was so excited to eat because mom made cornbread tonight and that was my favorite.
It was not long after dinner when mom was cleaning up the dishes that a knock came at the door. My dad immediately got up to answer it, “Hello Cora,” he said as he opened the door. He spoke loudly as if he wanted mom to know she was at the house.
Cora looked angry and her voice sounded somewhat abrupt, “Is Maggie home yet,” she asked.