A Summer Day in the Country

The smell of fresh mulch and the sound of the wind blowing from a fan takes me back to the hot smothering air of the country back in Madison, Florida. Sitting on the swollen wood floors from the humidity at my grandmother Pecola’s house, my brothers and I along with a few cousins would just sit there in front of the economy sized fan and take in as much cool air as possible before grandma ran us out of the house and back into the engulfing heat called summertime. There was no escaping it. Not even the local public pool that felt like an oversized Jacuzzi. We would sit on the porch and take turns in grandma’s old rugged wood rocking chair. When it was my turn, I would rock as hard but as smooth as possible with my eyes shut tight envisioning I was off the coast of a beautiful beach with an ice cold drink. When I opened my eyes, reality hit and I was still sitting on that old wooden porch that made creeks at every step. My ice cold water was that of a water hose out back that only spit out lukewarm water to quench my thirst.


“Pee Poppa, you better leave them girls alone. I’m not fighting for you anymore!” I screamed at the top of my lungs with fear I would actually have to fight for him. Pee Poppa was my cousin on my step mother’s side. Back then, I really didn’t know how he related to me and still don’t have a clue, but I would get beat as if he was my blood brother when I didn’t stick up for him. Everyday just about the same time, he would nag these twin girls that we named Pig Feet and Peppermint. You can almost guess why we named them that. One of the twins always ate pickled pig feet and the other always had a pocket full of peppermints that she sucked on all day.
“If you don’t help me, imma tell on you!” Pee Poppa said as he made his way across the dirt road to Pig Feet and Peppermints broke down massive white wood house. “Pee Poppa! Get back over here!” My step brother Delon yelled out at him. But of course, Pee Poppa was being his stubborn little self and made his way over there anyway.
In less than 60 seconds flat, Pee Poppa was running back across the dirt road with a burst of dust behind him as he cried out for my step mom Arenthia. No sooner then he went in the house to tell on me and my step brother Delon, Arenthia came out of the house making her way to the rose bush to get a whipping switch of her picking. She sent us to the room and made us strip down to nothing and wore us out for old and for new. She later realized that she had forgotten to pick the thorns off of the switch which left us with welts and a few blood drippings here and there. Me and my brother lay in the bed under the white sheets and cried as we observed our bruises. I had the worst of them. Of course she wouldn’t beat her own blood as bad as me, I thought as I lay there in a pool of tears. She had beaten me so on my right bicep in the same place that the thorns would catch hold of the open wound and rip it open more each time. It was the most pain I had ever experienced up to my ripe age of 8. My grandma came in to check on us when she arrived back home from fishing; she found us crying and consoling one another with blood showing through her white sheets. She was angry as ever and went on a rage looking for my step mom. When she found her, all hell was raised up and through there. It felt like the summertime heat had made its way in the house with a vengeance.
Later that night, my step mom didn’t show her face back to the house and my grandma sent Pee Poppa packing with her. Grandma Pecola took care of me and my step brother for the rest of the summer. Till this day, I still have that bruise on my right arm as a constant reminder of that God forsaken hot summer day in the country.