After a few months of settling into our new home in North Carolina, I found myself gradually getting better. The new scenery worked wonders — while John was working on the vineyard, I started a small garden of my own, growing herbs and vegetables. Two years came and went, and the redundancy of my life began to take a toll on me. With the hands tending to the house and to the vineyard, I didn’t have much to do other than read, pray, and bake. John never lets me work — he thinks it will make my depression worse, and I can’t be bothered to argue with him.

 

John and I have had a difficult marriage. We grew up together. Our families are very close, and as John and I got older it just made sense for us to marry. It made our families happy, and there weren’t many other prospective spouses on the horizon. I really wanted to start a family of my own.

 

John and I tried for about two years to have children. When we finally conceived, my pregnancy was awful. I was terribly sick, and about five months into pregnancy, I lost the child. After we buried the child, we went to the physician. He simply told me that when women aren’t able to conceive it is usually because of some unexplained phenomenon– he tried to comfort me by saying that many women have these issues, and to pray to God for the blessing of a baby.

 

I fell into a deep depression — everything was just, dull. My life has no purpose if I am not a mother. I have no worth if I cannot provide John with a child. He tells me he doesn’t resent me, but I know he does.

 

John has been great at trying to make me feel better. He has been reading to me, he has the hands sing plantations songs, he invites friends to the house. Nothing seemed to work.

 

One beautiful spring afternoon, I was feeling particularly down. As I settled on the porch, Julius approached looking like a mess as usual. As he was walking up the porch stairs I noticed he was holding something in his right hand. When Julius told us it was a rabbit foot — a rabbit foot for luck — I was intrigued. John criticized Julius for his childish superstitions, but I think it’s nice to have faith and hope in something. The Lord knows I don’t have much left in me.

 

**

My dear, what a story it was. A story of a slave woman, Becky, being separated from her son, Mose. What God would allow such a thing, a child to be separated from his mother.

 

John didn’t appreciate the story as much as I, but there was such truth in the horror of a mother being separated from her child. How could it not hurt me?

 

**

When John left the porch, I thanked Julius for the story. I started to cry when he asked,

 

“Wuz wrong missus?”

 

“Do you think the rabbit foot actually brings luck, Julius?” I asked.

 

“Wud you like uh foot, missus?”

 

“Why yes. I must try it out myself. Thank you Julius.”

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