Old Enough

How can one night change a kid like me, or anyone for that matter? I don't know the answers but I do know I grew up a whole lot after sleeping over in what felt like another world entirely different than my own. Part of me wants to not think so much, to just be a kid who plays checkers, pretends to be a spy or astronaut and can forget all about the troubles this dumb ole world has. Something tells me those kind of days are soon over.

The first day without my best friend feels so lonesome; I see, despite our housekeeper Pearl's woes, her eyes sparkle. Perhaps her shine comes from having her niece and my best friend Clara in her home and heart everyday. I feel something new, something deep inside and I realize that talking with my grandfather isn't going to get me anywhere unless I work on being a more serious girl, not just a wee bit spoiled, jello lover, with no common sense. Clara taught me that I have to take responsibility and I am trying to figure out just where to start.

Pearl is folding clothes and I ask her if I can help. She laughs, "what's gotten into you child?"; I tell her about learning to do chores with Clara and that I don't have anything to do except making my bed. Pearl explains that it's up to my Paw-Paw to tell me what my chores are. She always draws a strict line I can't push through. I have given up my dream of moving to live with Pearl forever as I saw up close and in person that she has enough on her hands with her grandmother, Smacky Lips, and tons of family to care for. Caring shouldn't be so hard.

I hate being white and Clara being black; we're separated by meaningless stitches sewn into some invisible curtain that lies between us. What's wrong is nobody ever talks about it, that is until I met Clara. She said she can never come up to my house to play, in the imaginary part of town she aptly named, Yonderville. She said uppity white people will be all over Paw-Paw and would cause him trouble. Why? I went home and slept in her bedroom, ate her food, and laughed with her cousins. Paw-Paw sat on her porch and other than googly eyed neighbors staring at him because he was old, white and drinking sweet tea with Pearl, no trouble came of it. How do I change the world? I think I am feeling what is called blue. Not blue like a sunny day, but a sad state of mind, a real case of the Bluez just like I hear on this one radio show Paw-Paw listens to late at night when I am in bed but still sort of awake. They sing about havin' the blues, gettin' the blues, blue this and blue that. There's harmonicas, guitars, drums, deep bass strummers who wail with warm, southern voices that I have a mind to listen to and study now as they might have the answer. I have a harmonica somewhere and it gives me an idea.

After Pearl makes dinner, fried ham and green beans with gravy, I notice she isn't in any hurry to leave as usual. In fact she sits awhile and talks to Paw-Paw while I try to be unseen and unheard. She, as always, has packed up food in a yellow Tupperware container to take home to Clara and Smacky Lips. Just as I inch closer to the doorway and peek in the living room, she stands up smiling straightening her dress, she says, "I appreciate everything you do for us Charles." There it is again, "Charles!" I then spy a taxi pull up front. Paw-Paw stands, too then waves at the driver and hands Pearl some dollar bills. She's leaving by taxi now? Not walking fourteen miles home? Oh, what on earth is happening? I wish I could send a telepathic message to Clara. I want to call her but know they don't have a telephone. I decide I can write a letter to her. This is the start of a never ending friendship, yet, at this time I don't really know it. We'll get to that detail later, too.

Paw-Paw turns on the tv and watches a baseball game; I know it's his way of falling asleep. I wonder if he is lonely. I guess I always thought I was his company, but now I realize I need to make myself useful, show appreciation for my keep like Clara said. Maybe I need to make a list of ways to improve myself as a human being altogether, it's obvious that no one is going to fix my life for me.

It's dusk now, and even if summer is easing it's way to the end, the heat doesn't listen down here. I practice on my harmonica and tap it on my shorts to shake out my saliva. I don't know how to play anything of course. I press my lips and kind of hum into it. While tapping my feet I try to sound like I feel, blue.

~ "Oh baby, I got some news, Oh baby, I'm feelin' dem bluez, I got a friend I'm a missin' an there ain't nothin' I can do" ~