A 10-year old African-American girl tries to find her place in 1950s America.

Reach Up and Touch the Sky

Being black sure is hard work.

At least that’s what I told Big Mommy and she just sighed and said your being a girl makes it even harder.  That’s all I needed to hear.

I mean there’s days that go by that I wish I wasn’t even black.  There’s too many rules.  You have to use the colored fountain.  The colored rest room.  You have to sit in the back of the bus even if there’s no one else on the bus.

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A young girl finds herself the man of the house.

Testament

“Testament!”
The voice candled the young girl’s senses as-
“Testament, come here!”
“What?”
“Come in here!”
Testament pulled the covers down on her bed, headed across the room, parted the curtains and looked in on her mother.
“What?”
“Kill that wasper.”
“Where is it?”
“Flying around the ceiling.”
“I thought it was too cold for waspers now?
“Apparently not for this one.”
“I see it over at the lamp.  What do I kill it with?”
“The fly swatter.”
“Where’s the fly swatter?”
“In the kitchen on the wall below the clock where it always is.  Think, girl.”

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