Dawn

Damn. It's dawn again. I guess I better get moving then. That's what I hate about harvest season. It'd be bad enough getting up at dawn if dawn didn't keep getting earlier every day. Being out in the fields for 6 hours before the heat of the day and then 7 more after is intolerable. Harvesting crops isn't the most satisfying of things to do for 13 hours every day in a season either, but it lets us eat, so I guess it's important. Around 6:30 or so, the sky gets really pretty too, so that makes things a bit nicer. What should I eat this morning? "Morning Pa. Whatcha eatin?"
"Grits"
"Ma's Grits?"
"Yeah. She made them then got an early start into town. She said she wanted you to chop some wood today but I really need you out in the fields. If these crops don't get harvested soon, we might lose them. You can chop the wood this evening."
Sunset Sunset Sunset. At least I'll have the sunset even if I'll be chopping wood. Hmmm, not Ma's best grits, but that doesn't say much. They'll still keep me going through the day.

K'THUNK One down, about 30 to go. my arch nemesis, the sun was getting friendlier with each chop, course so was the sleepy feeling in my eyes and the soreness in my shoulder. To keep my brain from shutting down I began trying to figgure out how many logs would eventually split from the original thirty.
Over in the corner a pig was noisily finishing off the last of ma's morning grits. I was too sore to feel sorry for it. K'THUNK

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Granted, grits are probably much better than what it usually eats. Hell, I don't even know what's in the stuff we usually give them. You really can't seperate one part of slop from another.

The day hadn't been especially short. My whole body agreed with that. My body is getting more and more used to farming life, but I wish it might hurry up a little bit. This last month since I left schooling has been especially bad on my body - though it has made me appreciate sleep a little more. Even if I wish we could still afford my education, I've always known in some sense we'd never have the ability for me to complete it.

The harvest today hadn't gone well. Not only was some of our wheat going bad in the fields, but it was starting to get moldy in storage. We can't make bread out of mold. What's more, Ma returned late from the market only having sold about half of the goods she brought. If they don't sell tomorrow, we could face hard times

The last log split, I grabbed as many as I could and headed in towards the house. The it was now sleeping in the gracious darkness of the freshly set sun.
"Thanks sweetheart," Ma smiled a smile at me that seemed to express more exhaustion than even I was feeling.
"Are you ok Ma?" I asked as she hurredly turned away and, after seting down half the load next to the stove, whiped a stray tear from her cheek that she didnt think I had noticed.
"I'm just fine darlin' just fine." I quickly set down the other half of the load I had brought in next to the fire place and gave my mother a hug. She held on tight.
"It'll be ok," I said. "It will all work out all right."
"I know, I know," she said. "I'm not worried.... You missed dinner again. I saved you a plate."
"Thanks ma." mmmmm, possem leftovers....
I ate in silence while ma washed the last remaining dishes...

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    That night I couldn't really sleep; I just layed there thinking about what I had said to Ma:

    "It'll be okay... It will all work out all right."

    Those words ate at me, whithered me down like the aphids on the harvest. I took the loss of sales and the field of crops yet to be harvested as my own failures. Though I  had worked hard, though yet more blisters filled my calloused hands, I had not done enough. I layed there pondering the promise I had made...it will be all right....I thought about my little sister Alma-Mae. She was merely ten, and undernourished. There just wasn't enough to eat anyomore, but she never complained.

    Then there was my father; he was getting sicker, and yet everyday he would be out there in the field, working to the edge of collapse. I did not want to fail him, I did not want to fail my sister. I would live up to my promise.

    The sun peeked over the distant hills in the horizon, and gleemed through the window, brushing upon my eyelids. I didn't need much to get me up, just that light; that dawn. It meant it was the start of yet another long day. I threw on my pants and shirt before I slipped on my boots and headed downstairs. I looked in on Alma-Mae, she was still alseep; cuddled against her pillow. I decided not to wake her and made my way to the kitchen, the rooster cock-a-doodle-dooing in the distance.

    Ma was allready there, cooking breakfest, the seat where my father usually sat was empty and waiting.

    "He's still resting," my mother answered my curious look, as she turned and scraped some grits onto my plate along with some eggs, " I made a special breakfest for you today, you need your energy."

        She put the pan in the sink and sat across from me with a cup of coffee. Here eyes were red and carried greying bags of worry underneath.

    "I am going in to town early today," she said as she took a sip from her mug, "Maybe that'll get me some sales."

    "Yeah," I replied solemnly, "After breakfest I'll milk Maybelle, and then get on them crops."

    She gave a small smile and stringed her fingers through my straw colored hair, "Your a good son, I couldn't ask for better."

       I finshed my grits and set the plate in the sink before I headed to the door. I took a step oustide and then turned back to my mother, "Everything will be allright," I promised and walked out into the dawn. Maybelle was grazing in the paddock on clumps of grass. I took up the pail by the fence and set it beneath her. I milked her until it was full, and then brought it back to the house. Alm-Mae was at the table laughing with momma, finishing her breakfest. Momma had allways said that laughter was the best medicine. I didn't feel that there was much to laugh about these days.

    Soon Momma and Alma-Mae would leave for town; Momma for the market in the sqaure, and Alma-Mae for school. At least she had school, and it fit her well too. She was very smart for her age. As long as she had an education I was happy. She would come home with drawings of Maybelle and the rooster. My favorite was a portrait of the family; a group of stick figures in embrace.

    " Morining Aar- Aar," she called from the table. My  name is Aaron, but to Alma-Mae, its Aar-Aar. 

   "Morning sunshine," I greeted her back, "you have a good day at school now."

    She beamed at me as I turned and headed backout. I grabbed the wheelbarrow and the potato bags and headed out to the field. I got work to work filling the wheelbarrow and then the bags, sittiing them on the edge of the pasture. Soon the put-put of the old pickup drew near and swept by, honking, Alma-Mae waving out the window. I waved back, and then returned to the crops. I had already filled four bags and had two empty ones left. It wasn't long before Pa jonied in. The day took over and soon the sun hovered over the middle of the sky, glaring down at us, stealing the shade of the stocks.

    "Time for a break," my father called out.

   "You go ahead," I replied heading for the tractor.

  My dad wiped his brow and sat out on the hill next to the crops. I moved across the farm and jumped on the rickety old tractor by the barn. I drove it across to the field and threw the bags on the trailer on back. I manueverd the tractor back to the barn where I dumped the sacks, and then carried them back to the field for another fill.

    I had filled two more bags before the sound of a chugging motor came over the hill. A first I thought it might be the old pickup, but it made more of a hum than a drawing put-put. It was a black sedan. Pa wiped his arm across his head and turned out toward the road. When he saw the car he made way for the house.

    "Stay here boy," he ordered, "you don't take no mind from them suits you hear," he called over his shoulder.

    I knew he was going to get the gun, that tone in his voice and the scarlet red of his face told me so. The black sedan pulled up as the slamming screen door echoed in the distance.

    "You get off my land," yelled Pa as he waved his gun, "you get off my land and leave my family alone."

    A tall man in a dark suit and a hat had already stepped out of the car and pulled a folded paper from his inside pocket.

    "See here, this is the banks final offer, " proclaimed the man, throwing the paper at Pa, " You'd be smart to take it...you have a wonderful family, it'd be a shame."

    A gunshot sounded in the air, and the man holding his hat on tight, jumped back into the sedan an it sped away up the road and over the hill.

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 That night we all sat at the kitchen table to eat supper. Ma scooped cabbage soup into bowls and passed them around the table, as Alma Mae and I set the silverware. Pa sat at the end of the table, looking like a skeleton. His eyes were amassed in dark circles, and his skin was a dreary pale. He continuodly coffed into a napkin. I turned to see that Alma-Mae's face was flush with worry.

  "It'll be okay," I told her, patting her hand, "Everythings going to be fine."

  She stared back at me, telling me with her big droopy blue eyes that I'd better be right or else. Dinner was mostly quiet, but as Ma finshed the last slurps of her bowl, she looked up at us.

   "I sold five loafs of bread today," she managed with a smile, " and several pounds of cornmeal...not much but its a start."

  Pa sat down his spoon and shifted in his seat, "Aaron I need you to into town with your mother tomorrow."

  "But Pa..." I sputtered. "No buts," he ordered, "i'll make do with crops alone."

  I didn't say any more but he knew what I was thinking, "The cropd alone aren't good enough, we need to make more sells in town or we wont be able to pay the bank."

  With that he set his dish in he sink, and ambled out of the room, coughing all the way down down the hall. I looked across the table at mom, who seemed to share my concern. Deep down though we knew my father was right. The bank was pushing us against a wall and we needed some leverage to get out.

  That night I sat awake in bed for several hours thinking about a days work alone would do to Pa in his state. I feared the worst, but knew he had his familes best interest at heart. I knew that somehow I had to keep my promise to Alma Mae and Ma. I decided I would work as hard at the market as I did no the crops. Somewhere in the twilight I closed my eyes and drifted away to sleep.

 

 

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 The morning came hand in hand with the rising dawn. With it came a sea of light through my window that sent away the shadows of the night, and met me waking. I threw on my clothes and boots and headed downstairs. I passed Alma Mae's room on the way to find an empty bed with the sheets thrown to one side all ruffled up.

 Ma and Alma Mae were sitting at the kitchen table sharing laughs over a drawing Alma Mae had done at school. That was one thing that always brought my spirt up, that Ma and Alma Mae could always find something to laugh about.

  "Is my head really that big, " I asked glancing at the picture as I walked by.

  "Ma and Alma Mae looked at each other and laughed, "Yep," beamed Alma Mae not skiiping a beat.

 I sat down at the table and streched my legs out, "Very funny," I mock laughed.

 "There is extra grits this morning," Ma annouced as she pinned the drawng to the refridgerator.

  She spooned them all on to my plate, "There all yours," she said.

 "Yep," shot Alma Mae, "We made them together this morning."

 

 

"All the better," I smiled, "Thanks."

"Aaron you've been working hard," momma chimed, "you deserve it."

"Yep, your the bestestest," Alama Mae said looking up from her drawing.

     The grits tasted better today. I doubted that there was anything different about them. It was probably just the compliments from Alma Mae that made them more enjoyable. Still I took it in stride. There was so much work left in the field, that I hated to leave pa to do it alone. But, he had put his foot down. I was going to to market the with Ma and that was that. I finished my grits and put the bowl in the sink.