Emily's Summer

The soles of Emily's feet were summer-hardened,
like the veneer at the mill where her father worked.
He worked the night shift so he could work for
farmers, plowing their fields for planting.
Her little feet were bare - shoes were only for school.
She would scrunch up her face when the pain became
hard to bear, but she never faltered - not one step.

Emily had a task to perform and she must do it well.
Grammy would take ice from the ice house,
Line up Kerr canning jars from the fruit cellar
and half-fill them with the crushed ice.
It was Emily's job to take the big one-handed
sledge hammer and break the ice into pieces
big enough to last her walk to the field where
her father was working that day.

She was a "big girl", her Grammy told her.
She had to take her brother Richard, three years-old,
cause Mama was delicate and needed her rest.
Grammy had old raggedy quilts that she wrapped
those jars in, to keep them from getting warm.

Little dress riding high, arms full of canning jars,
Emily tied a string around her waist and the other end
around Richards hand so that he would not run away.
Three year-old boys were rash and always running
to find something interesting that they had not seen.
Emily was proud to be a helper and didn't want to
do anything to upset her hard-working Father, who
could lash out in anger quick as a hornet and twice
the sting.

Dusty country roads didn't get a lot of traffic,
so Emily and Richard walked right down the
middle through puddles of dust and hot wind.
Emily sang to the boy to keep his attention away
from running and jumping...if she dropped
the water....she had a line of scars on her back
from the time Richard had pulled all his weight
against her and toppled her over a big rock...
more rock than quilt and the precious liquid
had soaked them both and mud moved in.
Emily lay crying, deciding which was worse:
going to the field and confessing to her father,
or returning home having broken a jar and
face her mother's wrath.
Her Mother's wrath the last time
had been to chain her to a stud in the
unfinished farmhouse and beat her senseless.
Grammy had to sneak behind the house,
push open a hole in tarpaper and hand
Emily cloths soaked in luke-warm water.

Not far ahead there was a plume of dust
and Emily knew she had found her Father.
He rode high on the green tractor with his
red neckerchief and bare chest against the heat.
Emily found a place to crawl through to the
fence surrounding the immense field.

When her Father caught sight of the children
he leaped down from the huge grumbling beast
and headed toward them. With a smile and
a hoot he scooped Richard up in his arms,
nearly pulling the jar out of Emily's hands.

"Hey there squirt, how's my little man?"
He loved on the boy a while then turned
to Emily, "Chucklehead, I was about to
dry up and blow away - what took you so long?"
He grabbed the jar from Emily and screwed
off the lid lined with wax paper, drinking deeply.
When he had his fill he put the jar to Richard's
mouth and the boy eagerly sucked at the cool treat.

"You take good care a your brother, missy or
you and me will have a real serious talk."
The jar was empty and Emily's dry lips quivered.
Wrapping the jar in the quilts, Emily helped her
brother through the fence and headed them home.