Free Child of the Mountains by Marilyn Sue Shank

up the presents and food in them quilts. Then, all four of us, we’d sneak over there afore the sun come up. Gran and Mama would hide in the woods. Me and BJ would tiptoe to their house and leave them bundles in front of the door. We would have to keep a hand over our mouths so’s the giggles wouldn’t come out and wake them up.
    It was almost the best part of Christmas. We could picture them opening up them quilts and thinking Santa had brought all them goodies. We kept it a real good secret.
    I pray for Betsy and her little sister sometimes. I hope that somebody else will be secret elves for them now that Mama and Gran and BJ and me won’t be around at Christmastime.
    Mama and Pastor John taught me that giving ain’t about showing off. Giving is about getting a real good feeling for reaching out to somebody in a humble way. I feel kind of sad for Cora Lee. She missed out on that real good feeling.

10

It’s about what happened to Gran
.
    S ATURDAY , D ECEMBER 5, 1953
    Gran left this world two years ago today. Uncle William and Aunt Ethel Mae ain’t said nothing about it. Maybe they done forgot. I wish I could go up to the cemetery on Paradise Hill, where Gran be buried, but it’s too far a piece to go by Shank’s mare.
    Sometimes when I first wake up in the morning, I think I hear Gran a-calling to me like she used to: “Lydia, get them lazy bones up out of that bed. The day’s a-wasting!”
    I’d open one eye up and look at her. The morning sun always sparkled out of Gran’s eyes. She’d flash me one of them toothless grins and say, “Up and at ’em. Rise and shine. Get some peppy, grandchild of mine!” Then she’dlean over and give me a kiss right smack-dab on my nose. Her knobby finger would reach up under the cover and give me a tickle under the arm.
    I’d start up giggling. “Okay, okay, Gran. I done gived up. I’ll get up!”
    One time I told her I was too big to get kissed on the nose and tickled. “Oh, so someone’s getting too big for her britches, is she?” she said. “We’ll just see about that!” She started giving me smoochy kisses all over my face and tickling me with both hands. We both laughed so hard we was a-crying.
    “You win! You win!” I said. “I ain’t too big! I ain’t too big!”
    “And you just see to it that you never get too big for some lovin’, Miss Smarty-Pants!”
    “I promise, Gran,” I told her. “Not never.”
    I sure wish I had me some of her loving right now.
    My favorite times was our walks in the woods. From when I was tiny, I remember how Gran would pull her long salt-and-pepper hair into a bun, throw on Gramps’ old overalls and boots, and grab the tote she had sewed for carrying herbs. She’d throw in some gardening tools to help her get them out of the ground. Mama would dress me in blue jeans, a shirt, and some rain boots from the Salvation Army thrift store.
    I asked Mama why she didn’t go with us. She said she wanted me to have the same special time with Gran that she had when she was a little girl. Mama said her part of the walk to the woods was to make us a good lunch. Shewould tuck sandwiches and pieces of pie or cake wrapped up snug in wax paper in Gran’s tote. She’d also tuck in jars of root beer or sassafras tea.
    Gran would sling the tote over her shoulder, and off we’d go. I’d stick my hand in her overall pocket to keep close to her while we walked. We’d sing songs. The one I liked best was about a dog named Rattler, I guess on account of wishing I had me a dog. That’s why I liked playing after school with that big brown dog that lives down the street. I sure wish he was mine. Anyways, the song me and Gran sang goes like this:
    Rattler was a good old dog, as blind as he could be
.
    But every night at suppertime, I believe that dog could see
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    Here, Rattler, here! Here, Rattler, here!
    Call old Rattler from the barn. Here, Rattler, here!
    Rattler was a friendly dog, even though he was blind
.
    He wouldn’t hurt a