And my, oh my, Sadie could clean and cook like a house a-fire. Mamma needed Sadie inside, doing women’s work, after all. Hence I became my father’s shadow early on, working alongside him in the fields, driving a team of mules by the time I was eight-plowing, planting, doing yard work and barn work, too, some of it as soon as I could walk and run. Dat needed someone to help him outdoors, so taking one look at me, he decided I was of sturdier stock than my soft and willowy sister. When I came along my parents already had their daughter-perty, blue-eyed, and fair Sadie. But then, who is ever given control over their destiny? Fewer thorns over the pathway of years, perhaps. I fought hard the notion that had I been the firstborn instead of my sister Sadie, my early years might’ve turned out far different. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
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