Mamas

                                                                  Mamas

Aubrey was a precocious child. It was boring at Mama Grace’s house. The old two story seemed to talk with wrap around porches. A steep "servant’s stairway" up the back way, off the porch outside the kitchen was interesting but the anxious women wouldn’t let him play there.

He’d get bored with the two giant pecan trees and you couldn’t crawl in the scuppernong brush because of the briars.

They’d seem to forget about him for a while so he’d snuck down to the muddy pond. Sweat running down his spine and his temples he’d toss stuff in. Minnows scurried from the muddy leaves at the shore and he’d wonder what they were running from? He sure wouldn’t hurt them.

Mama had warned him time and again not to go near the pond.

“You’ll fall in and drown like the other little boy did. “  She’d say.

He suspected since the “little boy” wasn’t given a name it wasn’t true but it sort of scared him anyway.

“What you doin’ down there, boy?” came a raspy voice from behind. It startled him so bad, he tensed and felt pee try to dribble, 

Turning he saw a big black lady sitting there on the porch of the small cabin. The tired porch roof drooped, wood planking the color of a cloudy day.

She was a cascade of folds in her faded dress and tattered straw hat. Seemed like every black lady he’d ever seen had a tin pot full of string beans they were snapping  by their foot.

“I’m not doin’ anything wrong,” he lied. 

“Come here. Let me talk to you a bit.”

“Yes, Mam,” as he trudged head down in guilt up the rise to the porch.

She was poured onto an old wooden rocker same color as the planks.

She motioned to a wicker stool by the pot of string beans and he sat in the shade there with her.

Funny, it was cooler here with a soft breeze. He could understand why she liked it there, gazing out into the heat.

“You know that pond can be dangerous for a little ‘ un, right?”

“Yes, Mam” he mumbled. “Mama says.”

“I know yo Mama says, cuz she told me you’d likely come down here and to keep an eye.”

Seemed to him his Mama knew most everybody. The man at the general store always knew he was coming. One time he’d dallied at the cemetery looking at the headstones and Mr. Joyner had' for the first time ever' seemed a bit cross.

“Where you been, Aubrey? Shoulda been here a bit ago”

Near as he could figure it was probably best to obey his Mama. ‘Specially if it was gonna make friendly people cross.

They sat for a while. She was quiet. The only sound was those beans snappin’ and the crickets and frogs at the pond. Well …  the ever present old crow was fussin’ as usual.

He waited a little. He was bored again but he didn’t want to hurt the lady's feelings. Then he had an idea.

“My name’s Aubrey.”

Yes, Honey, I know. My name’s Mae. I’ve known yo Mama since she wasn’t much older than you." 

“Well, I’m gonna go up to the house before her and Mama Grace get too worried and go to calling.”

“Yes … you do that, Honey. Tell yo Mama, Mae said hello.”

His heart jumped. If he told his Mama, she’d know he’d snuck down to the pond.

As he walked slow gazing at the old house up the hill he got to thinking. This was like that thing they’d told him in Sunday School. You might think you’re being sneaky and getting away with something. Thing is, God’s always watching.

Near as he could tell ... Mama was a lot like God.