The Sittin' Up Read Online Free Page A

Thomas took his family and moved out to town with the rest of the white folk. He took everybody except his boy, Christian. They didn’t get along worth a nickel because Mr. Thomas said his son was lazy. Mr. Thomas gave him a little house across the road from us and went on about his business. Christian Wiley was the only white person left in the Low Meadows.
    I waved at the womenfolk when we got closer.
    â€œMornin’, Lottie Pearl. Mornin’, Pole. Have-have Jabo left for the ’bacco field yet?” Papa asked.
    â€œLord, yeah. Jabo been gone. The ground so wet he told me and Pole to wait awhile. Why ain’t you in the field?” Then Miss Lottie Pearl stopped her sweeping. She dropped her broom and raised her hand over her eyes to block the sun that had finally stopped hiding behind the clouds. She walked to the end of the porch and looked at Papa.
    â€œStanbury, is that death I see in your eyes?”
    â€œIt-it is death, Lottie Pearl. Mr. Bro. Wiley went on to glory last night. I wanted to catch you ’fore you went to the field. Need you-you to go up to the house with Wife, while I get Joe Gordon.”
    â€œMy Lord, my God!” Miss Lottie Pearl yelled out. She threw her arms in the air. She shouted like she saw Jesus coming down Low Meadows Lane to take
her
to heaven. Pole threw the gloves to the ground and rushed to her mama’s side.
    I wanted to get down from the wagon to hug the women but I had to take care of the menfolk business with my papa.
    â€œLottie Pearl, it-it gonna be all right. Mr. Bro. Wiley was old and tired of this here earth,” Papa said. “He was ready to go on home.”
    â€œLord Jesus. I should have known he was gone. Last night I dreamed I was lost in this big house. That’s a sho’ sign of death,” she said.
    While Miss Lottie Pearl was talking, I reckon the Holy Ghost got hold of Pole because she stomped her feet a few times like she wanted to shout. Her big ponytails went up and down and she was doing some crying. It hurt me to my heart to see her broke up that way.
    It took them a few minutes, but the womenfolk pulled themselves together and wiped the tears from their eyes.
    â€œYou all can leave. I’ll take care of Mama,” Pole assured us as they held hands.
    â€œYes, Stanbury, Pole is right. Y’all go on.” Miss Lottie Pearl paused and walked back to the edge of the porch. “Would you please ask Mrs. Gordon to call Pullman Railroad in Chicago for me? Tell them to get word to Willie that Mr. Bro. Wiley is dead,” she said. “He pay half price for train tickets and he sho’ gonna want to come South for the funeral.”
    â€œI’ll make sure she calls for you,” Papa told our neighbor. It sure would be nice for Willie to come to the funeral. He always brought me and Pole candy that the porters pass out on the train. Most of all he had stories from all over the country to tell us. We could travel with Willie without even leaving the front porch.
    I wondered what Mrs. Gordon would say to them important white folk up in Chicago. In school we read all about George Pullman’s first sleeping car carrying the body of President Lincoln from Washington. We learned about how all the coloreds that worked for George Pullman Company were also called “George” by the white passengers, even after he died.
    â€œPole, come on in this house and put your Saturday clothes on ’cause we got to go see ’bout Sister.”
    Miss Lottie Pearl turned to walk in the house then.
    â€œLord have mercy, Jesus,” she told the Lord as Pole followed her inside.
    Papa seemed fine with leaving the Low Meadows now ’cause he knew she would take care of Ma.
    We headed down Stony Hill. Heavy from all the rain, the weeping willows were leaning on Low Meadows Lane. With water still dripping from the leaves the trees appeared to be crying too. The leaves had fallen all over the ground. It felt