The strobing lights, the humming of a motor, the shaky sensation after a while felt out of the ordinary, so much so, that it woke me up. It was dark. I kept squinting from the constant periodic light shining into the car window from overhead. It made me sit up. I was quiet. Disoriented. Not understanding where I was. I looked toward the front seat. Mama was there. Driving. Crying. 

"Mama, where we going?" I had asked. 

Last thing I remembered was going to bed. We lived in Mississippi. We had a really nice house for black folks. I had a princess bedroom all my own. White post and canopy top bed, side tables, dresser and the pieces matched, with gold accents. I was the baby of the family, the only girl. Daddy's little girl. He, my daddy, called me, 'Sweetpea,'

Because she hadn't answered, I asked again, "Mamaaa, where we going?" 

She sniffed, swallowed. "Go back to sleep," was how she answered. But it was just the two of us. I had three older brothers. I had a father. Yet, it was just me and my mother in that car. In the dark, in the middle of the night, on a highway. In the back seat, there were blankets under me, and a pillow that I had been laying on. 

"Mama, can I come up there with you?"

"No, go back to sleep I said," 

I didn't want to go back to sleep. I wanted to know where we were going. I wanted to know where my brothers were. Where my Father was. Why were we on the road, driving somewhere, and why... why was she crying? I sat back on the seat, feeling the movement of the car. 

A memory that was playing in my head was what my brothers and I had been doing. Rather, what the oldest two were doing. I don't remember if my father was there, but my mother came and saw what we, or rather what they were up to. The old record player we had wasn't working because the needle in it was broke. I had a doll that when you pulled the string, she would say a few words, I haven't a clue what. In any case, my brothers begged me to let them open her up. They said she must have a record, and thus a needle. My oldest brother looked at me, and using his power of reasoning said, as if it would be logical to me.

"You wanna keep hearing that silly stuff this doll saying, or you wanna hear some dance music?"

Well, he obviously had a point, because as I watched, my two older brothers, found that the doll indeed had a little repetitive record, played using a little needle. I looked up at my mother who came to stand over us, wondering what we were up to, and asked. "What is yall doin'?"

"We gone fix this record player mama," my second brother answered.

"Ain't that ha'baby doll yall done toe-up?"

They both looked up at her, and so did I, as the oldest said, "She want us t'fix the record playa too, mama." He had answered.  

My mother looked at me, shaking her head, "You know they done toe-up that doll don'cha, look at the head - look at the body," She stood with her hands on her hip. All I could do was stare back at her with no answer. But then, next thing we hear, Sam & Dave, singing Soul Man. The record player was singing our favorite songs again.

"See mama, we fix it!" They jumped up and started dancing, and so did I. I loved to dance. They were right, this was much better than that doll. 

Mama laughed out shaking her head, and then started dancing with us.

But now... here we were. No daddy. No big brother. No second brother. No younger brother. Just me and mama, at night, on a road and where we were going, I had no idea.

To be continued...

Click Entry 2 - Aunt Lorrene, Memphis, Tn.