Come on! It’s Time!

“Come on! It’s time.” I stirred a little in my sleep. Mama shook my shoulder. “Come on! It’s time.” I sat up and wiped the sleep out of my eyes. Mama had my brother Andrew Jack all bundled up and was holding out my coat. Andy was two years younger than me. I sat up and slipped my feet into my shoes and put my arms in the coat. “Button up tight MellyAnne,” she said like she did every time we got up in the middle of the night. We walked out the door of the two-room apartment. Mama put the padlock on the door and put Andy into the wagon. I said nothing. There was no need. I knew what to expect by now. I trudged along holding Mama’s hand while she pulled the wagon. Andy was sitting on a pile of paper sacks and the one canvas bag we owned. It was chilly and I shivered. Andy was quiet, he knew the routine too. “Now you know when we get there you must be very, very quiet. Did you hear me, Andy?” Mama said as she looked back at Andy. He nodded his head. She just looked at me and I nodded that I understood. We walked along the dirt road that was parallel to the railroad tracks. When we came to a crossing Mama turned left and walked just a little way toward the tracks and veered off the road to “our” path. We made our way slowly until we could see a clearing through the trees and brush. This is where we stopped to wait. I sat on the edge of the wagon with my arm around Andy. But my mama sat right on the cold ground and peered through the trees. You could hear the voices of men talking and shouting. Some were swearing and laughing as they unloaded the box cars. Several trucks were backed up to them. They were from the city grocery warehouses waiting to get their orders. Whole crates of potatoes, carrots, lettuce, cabbages, onions, and fruit of all kinds were unloaded. Every so often some of the produce would fall to the ground from a broken box. That is what Mama had her eyes on. It seemed like forever every time we waited. I was always scared. I’ll bet mama was too, but she never let on. We just knew if we made a sound, it could mean trouble for all of us. At least that is what Mama said. Finally, the trucks pulled away. The box car doors were shut. The train slowly pulled away. All that was left was one man and he gathered up the fallen produce and threw it into a bin and walked off. After all was quiet, we followed Mama into the clearing. Only one light from a pole was shining scary shadows on everything. I looked over my shoulder for the man, but he was gone. Mama went to the bin and pulled out as much produce as she could. Andy and I took what Mama handed down to us and put it in the wagon. “Hurry, we must hurry,” Mama would whisper over and over. She showed me how to load the big canvas bag first and then the paper sacks. Then when the wagon could hold no more, she would motion for us to follow as she pulled the wagon. I was to hold tight to Andy’s hand and hang onto the pocket of Mama’s coat. It seemed we only breathed once we got back on our path headed for the dirt road. By the time we got back to our neighborhood the sun was beginning to rise. As we walked down the sidewalk Mama would hand me a sack. I knew what to do. I would quietly go up to a neighbor’s house and put it in the porch and run back to Mama. This continued until we got home. Our neighbors were just as poor as we were. We brought back plenty today. Mama always saved enough for us in the canvas bag. This was hard work, for one tired mama and two children ages six and four. But like Mama would say, “This weekly adventure will keep us alive, and we will be thankful for it.” Sometimes all we might have, was a few head of cabbage, and onion and a potato or two. Sometimes all we had was apples, or some other fruit. But what we had Mama shared. Lately, it seemed like we were collecting more and more. Mama worked for a Café washing dishes over the lunch hour five days a week. This provided the only money we had. While mama worked, we stayed with the neighbor in her four-room apartment attached to ours in this old house.