Free Down the Dirt Road by Carolyn LaRoche Page A

tea roses.
       “What have I done?  Oh! !  What have I done?”
       “It’s OK Momma .  I’ll get a broom and clean it up. It’s just dirt.  There’s more pots out in the barn.  I’ll fix it right up.”
        “What am I gonna do, Jennie-girl?  What am I gonna do without your father?  He was my whole world!   We were supposed to grow OLD together!  Oh, how I wish I could be with him now…”  Sobs wracked her momm a’s thin shoulders.  She yelled, she pounded her balled up fists against the hardwood floor until they turned red. S he cursed God and the heavens and all that was holy for taking her true love away from her as the tears ran untapped .  All Jenni e could do was watch helplessly and try fruitless ly to gather the remains of the tea roses and the handmade pot that had held them. 
        No wonder Momma was so upset.  It was the last gift Daddy had given her, a Mother’s Day find from the local flea market.  Momma had cried then too, when Daddy presented it to her.  Th e sad little rose plant had been quickly losing its grip on life but Momma had nursed it back to beauty in no time at all. 
      The soil trickled through her fingers as she tried to scoop it into the remains of the broken clay pot.  The dirt had fallen on Daddy’s casket little by little as they filled in the space around h is final resting place. Jennie began to sob along with her mother.  The agony that filled the room echoed throughout the house like a Siren’s wail over the ocean.  They clung together crying, a never ending flood of tears.  Jennie had no idea how much time had passed when the first loud crash of thunder rumbled the very timbers of the house.  A flash of lighting lit the accumulated darkness of the storm and Jennie jumped to her feet. 
         “Momma!  Bessie’s still outside!  I have to go and let her in! ” She was already up and running toward th e door as another bolt of light ning parted the black sky.  The crack of thunder that followed was deafening.  She barely heard her momma calling out to her not to go as she grabbed the copper door know of the wooden half door in the kitchen and ran across the back yard toward the barn.
        Rain drops and hail as big as golf balls pelted against her arms and legs.  A hard rock of ice slammed into her forehead nearly knocking her to the ground as she slid through the muddied yard to the ramshackle building that housed their animals.  Blood trailed down the side of her face running into her left eye.  Rubbing at the warm liquid with her fist, she shoved her now soaked hair out of her face.  The door to the barn swung open in the wind, slamming against the side of the barn with a loud crash over and over again.  Jennie ran into the barn grabbing the door and yanking it closed behind her.  The horses whinnied and neighed as they sto mped their hooves in irritation.  The wind whipped through the eaves as the hail scattered against the tin roof.  The noise was as deafening as the never ending crashing thunder.  
        The back door to the barn leading to the small pasture where old Bessie spent most of her days, struggled against the onslaught of the storm.  The bar holding it in place was the only thing that kept the wind from ripping it off its hinges.  Her hair whipped against her cheeks stinging her skin as Jennie yanked the wooden bar away and threw th e door open.  The wind caught the door immediately and whipped it back ag ainst the side of the structure, tearing the top half off its hinges.  The door hung precariously as it swung back and forth in the angry weather.
         “Bessie!  Come here, old girl!  Come on, Bessie!”  Jennie clanged the old bell on the side of the barn, banging the clapper against the side of the bell over and over as she yelled for her favorite animal.  A bright flash illuminated the small pasture briefly.  Jennie scanned the area still crying out for Bessie to come home.  The