A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton - Michael R. Phillips [20]
At first I don’t think he recognized me. I reckon if Katie had changed, maybe I had too. There used to be a saying among the slaves that all coloreds looked alike to a white man’s eyes. Not being white, I never knew if that was true. I’m sure nobody’d ever confuse me and Josepha, ’cause she was huge and I was thin as a rail. But I could tell from one look at the master’s face that he was confused seeing me walking away from the house. He knew I didn’t belong there. But at the same time, a little look as his eyes and forehead wrinkled slightly told me that he recognized me, even though he didn’t quite know why.
Then slowly a light came over his face. He said, “You’re old Henry and Lemuela Jukes’s kid, ain’t you?”
I nodded, my feet still nailed to the ground.
“You didn’t get killed?”
“No, sir.”
“Where you been all this time?”
“Over yonder.”
I don’t know what he thought I meant by that. I’m not sure what I meant myself. He didn’t seem to question it, or wonder how I’d kept myself alive for two months.
“Well, don’t matter now, I guess,” he said. “I reckon what you do’s your own business. You ain’t mine no more. Well … talk to Josepha—she’ll put you to work.”
Then he kept going the way he’d been walking and disappeared around the other side of the house.
Josepha looked at me from the porch, like maybe she thought now I’d change my mind. But I just waved again, then kept going the way I had been.
I didn’t look back again. I didn’t want to cry, and I knew that if I saw her big tear-streaked face again, I would.
A REMEMBRANCE OF FREEDOM
11
IWALKED BACK DOWN PAST THE SLAVE CABINS TO where I’d tied the horse. I gave one last glance toward the little house, empty now, where I’d lived most of my life. This time I didn’t even want to go back and look inside.
That part of my life was over, especially after what Josepha had told me. That part of this world was gone. If I’d have known what I know now, I might have lingered a moment longer, just thinking how slavery was something that was now gonna fade into the history books. But I was still a girl, and I didn’t want to linger. History was the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to go.
Good-bye, little girl, I said again like I had a week before. You ain’t a slave no more!
I got to the horse. Now that I was alone, for some reason, even though I wasn’t hungry, I decided to open the cloth Josepha’d given me. I sat down on the grass and put it in my lap and unfolded it.
My eyes shot open wider than Katie’s! There were six pennies and another coin that was a silvery color sitting on top of the piece of bread. I just stared at them a minute, then took them in my hand. I’d never even felt money before in my life, much less had any of my own.
Josepha … the dear old lady! I didn’t know how much this was, but however much it was, she’d had to work more than a whole day for it, ’cause it had to be more than five cents. My first thought was to run back and thank her. But I decided I’d better not, ’cause with as much love as I was feeling for her right then, and knowing I didn’t have to be afraid of the master, she might talk me into staying!
I wrapped the coins back up and put them in the big pocket of my dress, then got on the horse and rode slowly away the way I’d come. I was hardly thinking about where I was going or what I was doing. My mind was so full of new thoughts. It’s impossible to describe to anyone who’s never been a slave what it’s like to suddenly realize you’re free. I would never forget what I felt like that day as long as I lived.
Suddenly everything had changed. Everything! I didn’t have to wonder if someone was gonna grab me and make me a slave again. I wasn’t a runaway anymore!
But then … who was I? Who was I now that I was free?
I felt like the same Mary Ann Jukes … but at the same time I didn’t feel the same at all. I felt like yelling for joy and screaming