Child Bride by Jennifer Smith Turner

Author:Jennifer Smith Turner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SparkPress
Published: 2019-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

BERNICE RANG THE dinner bell, and the family made its way to the dining-room table. Momma, Robert, and the others each passed Daddy’s chair and touched it ever so gently, as though it were fragile, like a tender egg. I stood behind his chair a moment and caressed the worn wood imprinted with the impression of Daddy’s back. We sat in our respective places at the table, me in the same chair I had occupied until the day I became a bride. Momma took her place beside Daddy’s spot, where the red and white checkered napkin he always used was resting on the plate. His favorite drinking glass, an old green-tinted mason jar with a piece of metal encircling the rim and connected to a bent handle, was to the right of the plate.

We held hands and bowed our heads for prayer. But rather than a prayer of thanks, Momma said, “Robert, time for you to move to the head of the table.”

“Momma?” Robert asked.

“It’s time. You the man of this household now. Take your rightful place.”

Robert slowly rose, eyed each of us as though seeking agreement or permission, and made his way to Daddy’s chair. As he pulled the chair away from the table, the legs made a screeching sound. We gasped. Robert froze, looked around the table and then at Momma. She nodded, and he sat down.

“Children,” Momma said, “I know y’all are worried about me. No need for that. We each have to come to terms with losing Daddy in our own way. Mine is to do the things that bring me comfort—washing his clothes, holding his rocking chair as though my hand is resting on his, speaking to him like his breath is tickling the side of my ear, stroking his hair brush to take in the scent of him. It may seem like I’ve drifted far away, I haven’t. This is my way of finding the contours of my new nest filled with memories. It’s a comfort to have Baby Girl home. Although she’ll only be here a short time, we can all begin to heal together. Tomorrow we’ll visit Daddy’s grave as a family and say a proper good-bye; he would want that. Now, Robert, say grace.”

We held hands and lowered our heads as Robert spoke the prayer that Daddy had always shared.

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