Georgia Blossom | Teen Ink

Georgia Blossom

June 5, 2012
By erynneclaire, West Olive, Michigan
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erynneclaire, West Olive, Michigan
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Author's note: I enjoy war stories. I also love it when one feels free to be who they were meant to be. Compassion and humble confidense are inspirational.

“Come and get it!” I yell real loud for the hungry pigs to hear. They come squealing to the slop I’ve thrown into their pen. Usually, Momma wouldn’t waste so much food and the pigs would go hungry. But times ain’t so tough now and the pigs can eat.

“Momma, I am done!” I yell towards the rickety front porch where Mommas churnin’ the butter.

“Georgia! Y’all can’t be done yet! Y’all jest started ten minutes ago!” Momma usually ain’t this stressed but her nerves multiplied after readin’ ‘bout the war in the papers yesterday. It’s June 1944. The beaches of Normandy were stormed about a month ago. My daddy’s there.

“Momma! I am done! Now I’m goin’! I’ll be back later!” I yell over my shoulder as I run towards the forest. I need some me time.

Momma jest shakes her head and keep on churnin’. I run clumsily, my limbs flyin’ in all directions. I spin in the spring breeze, happy to be free. I always gotta do the chores round the house and barn. My sister, Mary, moved to the city the minit she turned eighteen. Said she wanted to get a job and send some money back to us. I jest think she was ready to leave the farm. Havn’t heard from her ‘cept for a couple letters she sent. Says she got a job as an escort. That sounded dandy to me but momma almost cried when she read it and I don’t know why. My brother Sky is but fourteen and he worked at the mill. But he got fired yesterday for bein’ disobedient and got a whoopin’ from Momma. He tries to find odd jobs now, when he feels motivated enough. We jest need the money. I’m sixteen and stuck here. I love this farm and all the wide expanse of land ‘round it. I jest don’t like being the one here for Momma to critique.

Momma says I’m skinnier than a rake, and clumsier than a blind horse. I jest laugh ‘cause these insults don’t bother me any more. I jest say “Yes, Momma,” and keep on movin’.
Most people I know think I’m different. Sky has my momma’s wavy blonde hair and my daddy’s brown eyes. Mary has my daddy’s chestnut hair and Momma’s blue eyes. My eyes are turquoise and my hair’s a peachy red color. Sometimes I believe the story ‘bout the stork droppin’ me off at the door step.
I keep runnin’ towards the woods and don’t stop ‘till I reach my favorite spot. It’s as beautiful a place as I’ve ever seen. There’s a pool as turquoise as my eyes and deep ‘nough for me to wade in. It’s surrounded by Georgia Peach trees, my favorite kind. When I’m here, I don’t have to be the proper young lady Momma wants me to be. I can skip and hope and dance around. I can wade in the water or jest float for a while and think ‘bout nothin’. But when I do think, it’s ‘bout Daddy. I wonder what he’s doin’ right then and there. I wonder if he made new friends and if he likes fightin’ for his country. But mostly I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him.
Daddy and I have always been best pals. He taught me how to whistle and track animals by followin’ their footprints. He always accepted me for who I am and I dare say I’m his favorite child. But now I’m startin’ to wonder.
Daddy hasn’t written home in 3 months. I would think that if he loves me as much as I love him he would at least write one letter. I try to make up reasons why he hasn’t written while I float in the pool. I keep from thinkin’ the worst by thinkin’ of the best. I tell myself he only brought enough paper for one month ‘cause he knew he’d be home by then. But then my mind wanders to the terrible question of why he ain’t home yet. I miss him so much that my heart feels like it’s crackin’ in my chest.
Times were hard durin’ the depression. I had to leave school at the age of thirteen to help Momma on the farm. Sky left the same year as me but he was only in the sixth grade. Daddy always traveled lookin’ for a job but I still saw more of him then than I do now.
Momma always tells me that family is more important than money. It’s hard for me to believe her though. She came from money. She grew up livin’ in her rich grandfather’s mansion ‘cause her parents were out travelin’ the world. She hardly saw any of her family and was raised by maids. She always got everythin’ she ever wanted and was as happy as a clam. So how can she tell me family is more important? After her grandfather died she met my father and they fell in love. But even then she loved her inheritance more than him. She spent it all on fancy gowns and pearl necklaces. She never expected the depression so when it came she lost all her money. By that time all us children were born and we had to survive on Daddy’s low income. Momma had to sell her jewelry and dresses to make more money. I have never seen her cry more than the day she sold her last string of pearls. She didn’t even cry that much when Daddy left for war.
I quickly unbutton my feed sack hand-me-down dress and kick it into the underbrush. Wearin’ only my undergarments I dive into the cool, inviting pool. I relax on my back and gaze up at the lofty tree tops. The thoughts of Daddy come floodin’ into my mind. I sure hope my best friend is safe.

As I lay there, I begin to recall the last conversation Daddy and I had. It was the day before he left for war and I was tryin’ to hold back the tears. We were walkin’ down the old two-track road when he grabbed my hand and looked me right in the face with his soft, brown eyes.
“Georgia, you know I love you,” he said through a teary gaze. “You are always gonna be my special girl. I want you to know that. You are beautiful no matter what anyone tells ya.”
“Thanks Daddy!” I say between sobs. “But I don’t feel that way ‘bout myself. I’m just an ordinary girl roamin’ without a purpose.”
“Darlin, you may feel like an ordinary girl today but soon you will emerge a beautiful, young woman. You will blossom like the Georgia peach trees in spring. You’re my Georgia blossom.”
That was the last time I hugged Daddy. He left on the train bright and early the next mornin’. Momma thought all us kids were still asleep but I snuck out the back door and followed Daddy down the road.
I gazed at his figure walking silently through the mornin’ mist. I wanted to call to him, run to him, make him stay.
“Daddy wait!” my mind cried. I just couldn’t get the words to come outa my mouth. They sunk down deep in my throat and my heart sunk deeper in my chest. I watched him walk ‘till I couldn’t see him any more.
“I love you!” I managed to get the words out but they fell flat to the ground and I was the only one who heard ‘em. He was gone.
I feet somethin’ wet roll down my cheek and I know it’s not water splashin’ on my face. My eyes burn and more and more tears roll down. I miss Daddy so much and I jest can’t hold it in any more. I paddle to the muddy shore of the pool and pull my self out of the water. I run deeper into the forest, my tears blindin’ me as I go. I ain’t got no sense of direction; I’m jest runnin’.
I guess my feet knew where they were takin’ me ‘cause I end up at the old two-track. I come haltin’ to a stop in the same spot I uttered those useless words jest one year earlier. I fall to the ground and sob. My body heaves with heartache and I think I can hear my heart crackin’.
“Georgia? Is that you?”
I look up and see Sky standing a few feet from me. His eyes are full of concern and he bends down to help me up.
“You alright Sissy?” His sweet voice asks me.
“I, I think so,” I say with the tears still flowin’.
“Come on, let’s go home.” He says compassionately.
As I walk up the porch steps I try to avoid Mamma’s eyes. I don’t wanna deal with her criticism. I don’t wanna hear about proper young ladies who don’t cry. I jest want Daddy.
I reach the door and walk inside. I can hear Sky and Mamma talkin’ through the screen door.
“I jest was comin’ home from town and saw her layin’ on the two-track. I didn’t ask what’s wrong.”
“Thank you, Sky,” Mamma says. “How much did ya make today?”
“Two whole bucks Mamma!” Sky shouts, his usual happiness returnin’ to his voice.
“Two!?” Mamma screams. “Oh my, oh my!” I can hear her get off her rocker and embrace my brother. She gives him the hug I need.
I run up the rickety stair case and into me and Mary’s room. I catapult myself onto the bed, my face gets buried in the pillow. I cry enough tears to fill up the Hoover Dam. I lay on that bed for what feels like hours. I ignore Mamma’s call for supper and neglect my evening chores. I listen between sobs for Mamma’s footsteps on the stairs. I prepare for her speech on how improper it is to ignore the dinner bell. But mostly, I wait for her embrace. I wait for her to put aside all her critical remarks and love me for me. She never comes up the stairs.

I must have fallen asleep ‘cause when I wake up it is pitch black outside. I feel lighter, on account of the billions of tears I cried. I listen real close and don’t hear a sound. I creep down the old stair case and make sure not to step on the stairs that squeak. Once off the porch I bolt to the forest. I need to get out of the house.
I get to the pool but this time I keep runnin’. I reach the two-track and slow to a walk. I don’t know where I’m goin. All I know is I’m not goin’ back. I come to a railroad track and sit down on the rails. The night is as black as ever, not even one star in the sky. All of a sudden, the track stars to rattle and a whistle blows. The eerie sound sends chills up my spine. I quickly cross the tracks and take a few steps into the brush.
The train comes thundering down the track a few feet away from me. I look in the windows as the cars roll by. My heart jumps to my chest as I gaze wide eyed at American soldiers in the cars. They are coming home! There are more than one hundred of ‘em! I look intensely for Daddy but without luck. The last car rolls by and I still didn’t see him. But I won’t give up!
I follow the train down the tracks, runnin’ like the wind. I reach the station within minutes. I run to the platform as the men are exiting the train. I can’t see so I stand on the nearest bench. I crane my neck and stand on my tip toes. The soldiers in the first car have all gotten off and the second car is almost completely unloaded.

“Daddy! Daddy!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

“Who ya lookin’ for, darlin’? A tall, handsome man looks up at me with a tired smile.

“My daddy!” I say frantically. “His name is James Belle. He has dark brown eyes and is tall and handsome. I need to find him! I need to!” My legs quiver and I feel faint.

“Well you shouldn’t be out here all by yourself at this time of night, darlin’. Why don’t you go on home.” He tries to lift me down from the bench but I shove him away. Just then I notice the face of Mr. Wilson, Daddy’s best pal. Daddy used to work on his farm before they both left for war.

“Mr. Wilson! Mr. Wilson! Over here! It’s me Geor-“ But I stop short. Mr. Wilson is pushing a wheelchair and the man sittin’ in it is Daddy.

I jump down from the bench and push past the tall soldier. I run up to the wheelchair as fast as my legs will carry me.

“Daddy! Daddy! You’re home!” I say as I bend down to hug him. “Why are you in a wheelchair? Are ya hurt?” But Daddy just stares blankly at me. I notice a bloodstained bandage wrapped around his head. “Mr. Wilson! What’s wrong with Daddy? Why ain’t he answerin’ me?!”

“Georgia, Darlin’, why don’t you run on home.”

“No!” I lose my temper and feel my face get red. “I will not go home! I snuck outa the house and ran here. I didn’t know why but now I do! My feet brought me to Daddy. I’m not leavin’ for home without him!” Tears fall incessantly down my face and my skinny body shakes.

“Georgia, I know you wanna stay with your father but I’m tellin’ you, ya gotta go home!” Mr. Wilson starts wheelin’ the chair toward the station house. But I ain’t lettin’ him take Daddy from me this easy. I run behind him and kick the back of his shins. He turns around and grabs me. He throws me over his shoulder and carries me back to the bench I was standin’ on. I kick and punch him with all my might.

“Let me alone, Mr. Wilson!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I know the soldiers are starin’ at me. I can feel their eyes. But I don’t care. I jest want Daddy.

Mr. Wilson sets me down on the bench and lowers himself onto his knees. He looks me directly in the eyes and says, “Georgia, you will go home, right now!” He is wearin’ a stern look on his face but I ain’t intimidated.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s happened to Daddy!” My eyes burn and my body’s still shakin’.

Mr. Wilson sighs and stands up. He looks at the wheelchair with Daddy in it and then back at me.

“Alright.” He says as he takes a seat next to me. “Your father and I were stormin’ the beaches in Normandy. A bullet came flyin’ through the air right passed my face. It hit your father in the skull and he collapsed. The bleedin’ was heavy so I quickly carried him up a dune. I found a grove of trees where the enemy couldn’t see us. I patched him up the best I could with the gauze in my pack. He was moanin’ a sad song that made me wanna cry. Thankfully, a medic found us and your father was brought to the nearest infirmary. They told us we could go home a couple weeks later.”

“But why ain’t he movin’ or talkin, Mr. Wilson?” I demand.

“The bullet damaged his brain, Georgia. He can’t walk or talk ever again. He’s lucky jest to be alive.” Mr. Wilson stands up and looks down at me with the same stern glare. “Now, get home! Your father will be home tomorrow after we go to the hospital.”

Mr. Wilson returns to the wheelchair and starts pushin’ Daddy into the loaded station house. I try to follow behind but I get lost in the crowd of eager soldiers. They’re all happy to be home. Does Daddy even know he’s home?

The only thing left for me to do is run again. I cross back over the tracks onto the two-track. I sprint without stopping ‘till I get to the pool. I gaze at my reflection through teary eyes. I look as if I’ve been to hell and back. I think I have.

I know I need to go home. I need to be there for when Daddy comes. I need to tell Momma and Sky what happened. I run all the way home. I don’t sneak in the door but instead let it slam shut. I hear Momma jump outa bed. She walks cautiously outa her room with a pistol in her hand.

“Oh good Lord! Georgia, it’s you! I thought there was a burglar in our house! What in God’s name are you doin’?”

I can’t speak. I fall to the floor and shake with sobs. Momma picks me up by my arm and lifts my chin with her fingers.
“Momma, I saw Daddy!” I squeal.

“What?! Georgia, you are sleep walkin’ go back to bed!” Momma turns back toward her room.

“No, Momma! I really did! He’s at the train station right now with Mr. Wilson! Ya gotta believe me!”

Momma turns back around and looks at me with an angry face. “Georgia! You go back to bed this instant! Do you hear me?”

“No Momma! I saw Daddy! You jest don’t care! You don’t even miss him!”

Momma stomps up to me and looks me directly in the eyes. She is seething with anger. “What did you jest say to me?”

“You don’t even love him!” The words slip outa my mouth like oil. They pierce Momma like a dagger. She raises her hand and slaps me hard across the jaw. It stings and causes a ringin’ in my ear.

“How dare you, Georgia! How dare you say that!” Momma runs back into her room and I hear her break down in sobs. I sink slowly to the floor holding my reddening jaw. I let my emotions get the best of me. I know Momma loves Daddy, but does she love me?

I wake up the next mornin’ still lyin’ on the floor. Momma’s bedroom door is closed, she never shuts that door. I know she must still be in bed cryin’ ‘cause of last night. I stand up and brush myself off. My jaw still hurts but not as bad as my heart. Sky’s old shoes ain’t at the door so I know he went to town. I decide I better do my chores. Maybe it’ll cheer Momma up. It’s the least I can do.

As I’m feedin’ the pigs, I hear a motor car pullin’ into the long driveway. Momma must of heard it too ‘cause she runs out onto the porch. A man in a captain’s uniform gracefully steps out of the driver’s seat. Momma falls to the ground. Usually, the only reason a captain would come in a motor car is to tell of a fatality. Of course Momma collapsed, but I stand tall, I know Daddy ain’t dead and Momma would too if she had listened to me last night.

“Mornin’ ladies.” The captain utters politely. He saunters up to the porch and stands before Momma. “Ma’ me, I have some new for you.”

“He’s dead. I know it.” Momma says under her breath and without looking the captain in the eye.

“No ma’me, he ain’t. Matter of fact he’s comin’ outa the motor car this minute.”

Momma slowly sits up and sees Daddy bein’ lifted outa the car by Mr. Wilson and into the wheelchair. I run excitedly up to Daddy. I know he ain’t the same but at least he’s home.

“James!” Momma runs off the porch and up to Daddy. “James?” Her happiness fades as she notices the bandage ‘round Daddy’s head. “What happened?” She looks at Mr. Wilson frantically then at me. “Georgia, go inside!”

“She already knows, Miss Belle.” Says Mr. Wilson calmly. “She found us at the train station last night.”

Momma slowly looks at me then Mr. Wilson then back at me.

“You were telling the truth? Oh Georgia!” Momma covers her face with her hands and begins to swoon. Mr. Wilson catches her before she falls and fans her face with his hand. “I’m alright,” She says faintly.

After Mr. Wilson retold the story of Daddy’s injuries, he handed momma the doctor’s note. Then he and the captain left in the motor car. Momma and I carefully lift Daddy in his wheelchair up onto the porch. Mamma sits down in the rocker and reads the note. When she’s done she carefully folds it and puts it in her apron pocket.

“Georgia, you sit here with your daddy. I gotta go inside.” She shuffles inside holdin’ her head. I hear her bedroom door close and I know she’s ‘bout to cry. I look at Daddy longing to say somethin’ but not sure what.

“Daddy? I’m, I’m sorry this happened to you. I love you Daddy. I sure am glad your home.” I take his limp hands in mine and kiss them gingerly. I look into his deep, brown eyes, still alive though his body is dead. Suddenly, a slow smile creeps across his face. Though every other part of him stays still, I know he’s not gone. His smile says he’s still here with me.

Sky still goes to town in search of odd jobs. Hardly any money’s comin’ in, now that Daddy ain’t workin’. None of us have heard from Mary. We assume she’s still in the city, whether she’s alive or not is the mystery. Weeks have passed and Momma hasn’t said a word, not since the day Daddy came home. She hardly leaves her room and never looks any one in the eye.
So I take care of Daddy by myself. It ain’t that hard. I took the doctor’s note outa Momma’s apron pocket and read it. I do all it says to. I help him dress and bathe. I feed him and lift him into his bed at night. It may sound like a burden but I love it. The note even says that Daddy could learn to talk again though it ain’t likely.
We take walks down the two-track together. I push him down the old gravel road and talk to him jest like I did before he left for war. I don’t feel like I’m talking to myself ‘cause I know Daddy’s listenin’. I try to get him to say my name. We practice this every day. Even if he never says anythin’ else, I would always be content if he could jest say my name. We’ve made progress on these walks. Daddy’s able to mumble a few sounds now and then. I feel hopefull.
I usually only push him a few yards outa the drive way ‘for my arms get tired. But today, we are goin’ much farther. I’m takin’ him to my favorite spot; the pool in the forest. It’s the time of year when the Georgia Peach trees blossom and it’s the most beautiful sight in the world. I shove the wheelchair through the underbrush until I reach the pool. I wipe my brow and sigh.
“Were here, Daddy! I’ve been wantin’ to show you this place for a long time.” I wheel him real slow in a circle so he can see the trees and the pool. A sweet, soft, spring breeze blows through my hair and carries the scent of the peach blossoms under my nose. I breath real deep and smile. Maybe it’s jest me, but I think Daddy does the same.
“Ya smell ‘em, Daddy?” I ask. He begins to mumble. He usually talks gibberish but he’s gettin’ more sounds out today. “Ya see the blossoms, Daddy? You told me I was gonna blossom one day. Ya called me your Georgia Blossom.” I look longingly at Daddy. I want him to say it so badly. “Say it Daddy. Please.”
“G-G-Gior-gi-a!” Daddy strains his neck to get the sound out. He lays back in his wheelchair, exhausted from the effort but with a tired smile on his face.
“Daddy! You said my name!” I burst into tears and hug him around the neck as tight as ever. Though his arms can’t hug me back I feel his love. He said my name; he made me happier than I ever thought I could be.
We sit there together, surrounded by the blossoming trees and the sweet breeze. I know now that all will be ok. Whether Mary ever comes home or whether Sky finds a job. Whether Momma ever speaks again or whether Daddy only says my name for the rest of his life. I know that I will be ok. I have emerged into the woman Daddy said I would be. I am Daddy’s Georgia Blossom.



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