Sabella's Journey

Chapter 1

The scorching heat of the Oklahoma sun blazes down upon me, erasing the trail of silvery tears that had managed to slip its way out. I turn around to take one last glance at the place I've been calling home my entire life. However, as of today, I will no longer view this place as home. The smell of freshly baked bread that always roamed through the town every morning and the chattering of old drunks on the corner streets would be nothing but distant memories from here on out.

With hundreds of childhood memories - some bitter, others cheerful - flashing through my mind, it had not once occurred to me that I, along with my family, would one day leave this pleasant place I've called home for the past twenty-one years.

Our tiny home, if you can even describe it as such, wasn't much to look at. There were only two sleeping quarters and a kitchen where Mama would make the most delicious soup you could ever imagine. Perhaps if you ignore the rotting sapwoods and rusted zinc, you would come to experience it as the most heartwarming place packed with love.

That's how it was before Mama died anyway.

However, as Pa always says, "All good things must one day come to an end."

That's why we're leaving this old, broken-down town to start a brand-new life in Kansas, I guess. Personally, it feels like we're escaping Ma's death instead of the actual hardship we've been facing lately.

Times had always been rough since I've been growing up. However, last year when our beautiful Mama died from smallpox, life seemed to have gotten much harder for us.

You see, my Pa's a wheelwright and had been one all his godforsaken life. It's the only thing he'd be good at, I guess. The man doesn't seem to have a knack for education. It never bothered us; most folks here are the same, but that doesn't matter. He's got a big heart - hell. He's the kindest man you'll ever meet.

That man right there, although he may look like an old crank, wearing nothing but dirty garments and a nasty tongue, has a damn good heart.

As for Joseph, my big brother, only five years older than me, yet that giant of a fella regularly finds it in him to boss me and my older sister, Ava, around every chance he gets when Pa ain't watching.

Joseph also works with Pa ever since he was a lad. What can I say about his loose tongue? Well, let's just say he takes a lot after Pa. Those two could be twins if Pa would take better care of himself.

The sad thing about Joseph is that life hadn't been too good for him either. I guess he has it more difficult. The poor fella lost his wife, Beth, three years ago from childbirth, along with their unborn son.

I've never known a man could be so heartbroken. Joseph had bawled his eyes out on that dreadful day when the doctors told him Beth was no more. From the looks of it, even to this day, he never recovered. With nothing left for him in these parts, Joseph decided to tag along, hoping to start anew. Pa let him.

Ava's two years older than me. I'm the baby of the family; what can I say, I ain't complaining that's for one. Ava's my best friend since forever. Ava looked more like Mama, skin white as snow, corn-colored hair, and sparkling blue eyes. She had always been the talk of the town. Ava teaches at an old school not far from our home. Everyone was so proud of her on her first day; the girl had it in her since little. Beautiful and talented. Sometimes I wish we could trade places; even for a day would be nice.

As for me, I suppose I don't do much other than be at home all day doing the chores with Mama before she died, and I never stopped even after. Sometimes, I feel useless from seeing how my family suffers while I just sit at home all day. Still, they never made me feel any less. Not that I wouldn't want to find work; it's just - it's hard for a woman to get work, especially if you're a woman of color.

People had always been curious about how I've come to be where I am now. Allow me to explain; I was left on a stranger's doorstep when I was a baby. They, with open arms, took me in and raised me as one of their own, despite not looking anything like them.

They've given me all the love and affection a child could ever ask for. Still, as the years went by, I somehow felt lacking.

This world that I live in - I don't feel as though I belong in it. I don't know where I fit, but I know it's not here. I've always been reminded by others that I was nothing but dirt because of the color of my skin. I felt like dirt. There were times I tried to scrape the blackness off me or times when I would place a hot iron on my nappy hair until it turns straight as a rod.

Despite doing so, all that came to an end when my Mama sat me down one stormy night and assured me otherwise.

Mama told me I was special - perfect even. She said that there was nothing wrong with me. And from then onward, I began loving myself - just the way I am.