Glory

“John, it’s me, Glory. Guess where I am? I came back to the farm to say goodbye to this old barn. Tomorrow a big-business chicken farming corporation will tear it down and turn this land into a factory farm with hundreds of chickens that will never see the light of day. Can you believe that?”

Glory looked up at the holes in the barn roof where the sun poured through and where specks of old hay still created dancing motes in the streams of intense light. The walls were intact and aged to a silvery gray but except for a few scattered bales of dry hay the barn was empty. Glory looked up because John has passed years ago, and she imagined the sun’s rays made a path to where he sat in the mansions of the Lord.

“Remember how we met,” Glory asked. “We met when this barn was raised, and folk came from miles around to help Ernie and Esther Abernathy frame the walls, lift them into place and nail them to the sills. We women had made a lot of food, and everyone brought more with them. We set it all out on long trestle tables and rang the bell calling all the workers to lunch.”

“I was sent to the new barn to make sure everyone knew to come eat, and there you were, so handsome it made my knees weak, even though you were sweaty and dusty. You smiled at me and said, ‘hey girl, you are a delight to my eyes, so clean and fresh. What can I do for you?’”

And I said with a crooked self-conscious grin, “I am not your girl, but I think I could be. I’m here to fetch you to lunch.’ You smiled real big and said, ‘I am hungry, but you could fetch me anywhere.’ This was the boldest conversation I had ever had, but I loved you as soon as you gave me that first smile. I had seen you at work on the farm, but never close-up, and never to talk to. We may be free now, but we worked for the Abernathy family, and they didn’t mix their domestic help with their field help. I knew they wouldn’t like us to make a match.”

Glory closed her eyes. A couple of tears escaped and ran down her face, but she was unaware. She was somewhere back in the past - way back to when she lived with her mother Gloria, and they were slaves on this very farm. Glory’s last name was Abernathy then because she was fathered by Ernie Abernathy, a fact Esther never got used to. Her mother was pregnant again and Esther made Ernie sell Gloria away. She took Glory to live in the big house to be trained as a domestic. Glory knew every inch of this farm because when she was young she could go anywhere she wanted on the property as long as she had done her tasks. She never realized why her last name was Abernathy until she was grown, but she did notice that her skin was not as dark as the other slaves on the farm. She did come to know that she was pretty because people always used that word when they saw her.

Now everyone she had known was gone and the world had changed so much since she was a girl. There had been wars, most of them far away, but that one war fought right here. It looked like another war was brewing. The farm was able to thrive right up until the last few years with many changes such as more machinery and less people, larger crops, and markets that were farther away. Some crops were even sold to the US government.

But Glory was now eighty and farming did not produce a steady living on single family farms. Glory remembered when this barn had stables for the plough horses and stalls for a few cows. It had been a busy place from the time it was finished up until about twenty years ago, when Mr. Abernathy died. Esther died two years later. John and Glory had stayed right up until John died and then Glory could not make herself stay any longer. She went to work as a domestic for rich families in nearby Atlanta.

The angle of the sun had changed, and it highlighted different parts of the barn, offering up more memories. John had proposed to Glory in this very barn at the birthing of a litter of pups that they were both watching. He made Glory stand up straight by taking her hand and lifting her up. He got down on one knee and popped the question. He had made a ring of braided hay which he slipped on her finger. It was one of Glory’s happiest moments, one she was not able to fully enjoy, because she knew that Esther and Ernie would not approve and that they would make things difficult for Glory and John. Glory was, after all Ernie’s daughter and she was light-skinned. John was much darker than Glory, but his handsomeness matched well with her beauty.

Jealousy and possessiveness were both obstacles that had to be overcome. Eventually, with John and Glory already living together, the marriage was allowed. Esther and Ernest had no living children except Glory but soon three children were born to John Farmer and Glory, children to train up and educate to read, as their parents had never been allowed to do, children to bring life and laughter to the old farm. Ernest eventually left the farm to Glory, and she lived there with John Farmer until John died and the children were grown. Then Glory had to leave the farm. The chicken corporation found her in Atlanta and tried to pay her almost nothing for the land, but Glory got a lawyer and took them to court. The other lawyers put up a fight saying that the property could not legally be hers, but there were all the appropriately signed documents, so eventually the chicken corporation had to pay her. Then Glory did not have to work anymore at all.

“John, my love, we spent many years on this farm, both happy ones and sad ones. The old farmhouse is already torn down. Only this old barn is left but I wish I could keep it. I will keep it in my heart. I live with Becky, our second daughter now, but I feel that I will be joining you soon. Save a spot for me please in case I make it to heaven. You know that I could make you laugh with a few gossipy remarks about the doings of our friends and family whispered in your ear, so I may not be welcome. I will have to hope that God likes a good chuckle and doesn’t mind if it is just a little bit evil as long as it is all in fun.”

Glory left the barn and returned to her daughter’s waiting car. She did not look back. She had said her goodbyes.