CHAPTER

THREE

As my legs swung back and forth under the kitchen chair, I could hear my shoe laces hitting each other. I was a big girl, about nine-years-old, but still short and that’s ok.

Still had pretty curls falling down my neck.

I was laughing at Lisa, but my mama couldn’t hear me over the crackling bacon and grease she was cooking in the skillet. Or else she would’ve told me to, “Be quiet at the kitchen table!” Mama was sweating and it looked like the walls around the stove were sweating too.

All I could hear and smell was grease popping bringing the heavy smell of fresh pork and steam in the house. I had my breakfast already and I was sitting by my daddy. Just swinging my legs.

Mama made Daddy some eggs, toast, and fruit while daddy read the paper. The paper was so close up to his face that it seemed like he was actually trying to block the smoke and smell coming from the bacon on the stove. He never liked it when Mama cooked that pig. He acted like it was a disease or something in the air. Every single time.

Every time a good whiff of that bacon went across my nose I smiled, but Daddy turned his face and mumbled under his breath. I could never understand what he said. All I could hear him say was, “Helen and that dirty swine.” Daddy didn’t eat the same things we ate. I don’t know why he never said anything to Mama about all the pork she cooked. Instead, Daddy just messed with us like we had done something wrong. I jumped down from my chair and skipped over to my mama to tell her what Lisa did earlier that day. “Mama, Lisa grabbed my hair from behind…” and before I could finish getting it out of my mouth, my mama stopped me in my tracks and pointed the spatula to me.

She said, “Little girl get back up in your seat and finish you