by Gigi Amateau
In general, being the smallest girl on the field didn’t make me nervous at all. Tannie always tells me, I might be little, but I’m fiery! I was definitely ready to be fiery on the field at my game for Tannie.
In the first half, I tore my uniform and skinned my knee, and then scored the only goal of the entire game. All of my teammates gave me high fives and whooped and hollered, “Yeah, Jenna!” I listened for Mom but didn’t hear her shouting, “Jenna! Good job, Jenna!”
I tried to save my best jump header for when Mom and Tannie got there, but I had to use it anyway, because my team needed me. I closed my mouth, bent my knees, attacked that ball, and shot it over to my teammate!
“Nice pass, Jenna!” I heard Coach shout.
I kept looking out for Tannie and her walker, but I only ever saw a bunch of moms and dads and some baby strollers. Not one old lady showed up to watch my game, especially not the one I wanted to see.
After the game, Coach and I put away all the equipment. I hoped Mom would at least remember to pick me up.
I emptied out the water cooler. Did Mom forget me?
I helped the coach load up her car. Then we waited and waited some more. When Mom and Tannie finally got there, I was mad.
“You missed my goal! You missed it! This whole game was for Tannie.” I hollered to keep from crying. Mom looked too tired to get after me for yelling. She shrugged. “Jenna, I had to take Tannie to the doctor. We’re running a little late.”
I looked over at Tannie, who had stayed in the car and was just sitting there in the front seat.
I stomped my foot. “This was the biggest, most important soccer game of my life!”
I looked over at Tannie again. She didn’t even see me play. “It’s not fair!” I shouted.
Tannie saw me and waved. I didn’t feel like waving. I dropped my soccer ball and kicked it with all my might.
“Come on, Jenna. Don’t be mad. Tannie needed me,” Mom said.
Then I did start to cry. “Well, I needed somebody, too! I needed Tannie to see me win the game, just for her! I needed you to say, ‘Good job, Jenna!’ when I made a goal.”
Mom pulled me in close, and even though I’m not a baby anymore, she picked me up in her arms.
“Good job, Jenna! Good job,” she whispered in my ear.
I mashed my face into her neck and tried to plug my tears. “Do you love Aunt Britannia more than you love me?” I asked her.
Mom sighed. “Is that what you think?”
I hid again in Mom’s neck and didn’t say anything. Mom’s earring tickled my cheek.
Mom held me tighter and said, “Tannie’s our family, and I do love her. But, Jenna, you’re my heart.”
I twirled her earring around and around with my finger. “Hey, I gave you those earrings last Christmas,” I said.
“I’ve been wearing them a lot lately. They’re my very, very, very favorite pair. All my patients tell me how pretty they are. Then I always tell my patients all about you.”
Just for a second, I pretended I was still really little and it was still just the two of us. I rested my head on Mom’s shoulder. “I miss you, Mama,” I said.
“I miss you, too. I know it’s been hard and not much fun. We’ll all get better at being a family; you’ll see.” I wiped away my tears and took Mom’s hand. We walked back to the car together. Tannie waved even bigger when she saw me. I decided to wave back. And I hoped Mom was right.
But things didn’t get better.
They sort of got worse. One morning, when Mom and I were running late, we heard Tannie yelling.
“Girls! Girls! Girls!”
Then the walls started to shake.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
That didn’t sound like the school bus to me.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
I called from my room, “Mom! Mom! Is it an earthquake?”
Mom came running out of her bedroom still in her pj’s, looking sleepy and scared. She thought Tannie had fallen and was hurt on the stairs.
But there Tannie stood, at the bottom of the steps.
She was banging her walker against the wall.
“Girls, you’re late! Get on down here, girls!”
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Tannie kept right on banging that walker until we came down together.
When Mom marched downstairs, I knew Tannie was in big trouble, even though it was sort of nice of her to make us toast and juice for breakfast.
“Aunt Britannia! You are not our personal alarm clock! And your walker is NOT for banging — it’s for walking!” Mom had never before bossed Tannie like that.
Tannie looked hurt and her voice got quiet. “You have so much to do by yourself, Grace. I thought I would fix breakfast this morning. I didn’t want you girls to be late — that’s all.”
Mom raised her eyebrows at Tannie. “I do not need you to put yourself in harm’s way by doing crazy things with your walker. I don’t need that kind of help.”
Tannie looked at Mom for the longest time without saying a word. We all just stood there. I saw Butt’s tail swishing under the sofa.
Finally, Tannie spoke. “Grace, we all need help sometimes.”
After that, we all stayed quiet. Butt stayed under the sofa and wouldn’t come out. I looked out the living-room window and wondered if I had missed the school bus yet. In the serviceberry bush outside the window, I spotted three brown birds with black masks and red-tipped wings.
“Look, Tannie! What are those birds? They’re feeding each other!”
“Oh, Jenna! What a good eye you have for birds. That’s the cedar waxwing. What a loving, gentle bird, one of my very favorites. Add the waxwing to your list right away!” I did add the waxwing to my life list. I watched the family of three waxwings take turns feeding one another berries. Would we ever learn to be loving and gentle like they were?
I hoped it would be different, but that night as soon as we walked through the door, it was still like everybody had stopped even trying to learn to live together. Mom rushed to the kitchen so she could fix supper. Tannie started back to her room to watch TV. Butt and I played paper football on the floor.
Halfway down the hall, though, Tannie turned back and asked Mom, “Grace, do you need some help with supper?”
Mom answered, “No. I can do it myself. But thanks all the same.”
Tannie stood there watching Mom until Mom looked up from chopping an onion.
“What?” Mom said in sort of a snippy way. “I said I can do it.”
Then Mom tried to sound nicer. “You should go rest, Tannie. After supper and after I vacuum, I’ll help you with your shower.”
Tannie leaned on her walker and didn’t say a word. She pushed her walker, one slow step at a time, all the way back down the hall and into the bathroom.
I heard Tannie start the shower. I looked at Mom.
Mom kept chopping onions; she must have heard it, too, but didn’t look up.
I heard a big bang in the bathroom.
Mom dropped the knife and flew down the hall.
“Grace, all right, I could use some help,” I heard Tannie call out, but pretty quietly.
“Tannie! Tannie, I’m coming!” Mom yelled. She dashed into the bathroom. Butt and I ran down the hall behind her.
I didn’t expect to hear what I heard next.
Mom started laughing. “I’ll say you could use some help. You’re in a pickle, Tannie. Here, let me help. Oops. Oops. Oops. Come back, here.” I heard an awful lot of banging. Had Mom dropped Tannie?
“Here, let me help you, Grace.” The banging didn’t stop. Had Tannie dropped Mom? The laughing didn’t stop. What could be so funny?
I pushed the door open just to see for myself. I didn’t knock.
There was Tannie in her birthday suit, sitting on her special shower chair. There Mom was right with her — apron, clothes, shoes, and all.
They both kept dropping the slippery soap. Every time Mom almost caught the soap, it escaped like a game of keep-away
.
Mom reached again for the soap. It shot out of her hand, hit the wall, and then landed in Tannie’s lap. Tannie tried to grab it, and it slid right through her fingers. Tannie and Mom were laughing so hard, they were red in the face. Mom had to lean against the wall to keep from falling herself.
Tannie saw me in the doorway and said, “It’s all right. You can stay in here with us. I lost my modesty a long time ago.”
“That means Tannie’s not shy, Jenna. Close the door, though, so Tannie doesn’t get too cold.”
So I got in the shower with all my clothes on, too, and scrubbed Tannie’s back with a washcloth and washed her hair with a special shampoo for baby-fine hair.
Tannie washed her own legs. Mom says that Tannie still has the prettiest and strongest legs ever and that we are lucky that our legs are just like hers. Tannie says those are farm-girl legs and that they run in the family.
When we were all in the shower, dropping the soap, Butt meowed and meowed until we let him come in. Butt really is a big baby; he always cries when he gets left out. I don’t blame him; I don’t like to be left out either.
At supper, nobody was bossy and nobody was rude. Tannie said the blessing. Mom and Tannie closed their eyes and bowed their heads, while I tried to get Butt to bow his head, too. Tannie prayed:
At exactly the very same second, Mom and I added, “And thank you for Tannie!”
While we ate, Tannie said she wanted to call a family meeting, something Mom and I had never done before Tannie came. “There are two rules to know about this, girls,” Tannie told us. “Number one: everybody gets to have their turn to speak. Number two: everybody has to listen when it’s not their turn.”
“My turn first,” Tannie said. Mom giggled. I picked Butt up in my lap because he had to listen, too.
Tannie looked right at Mom said, “I need to say something important. I want both you girls to really listen. I’ve had a secret that I haven’t told anyone. Not even myself. I didn’t know it until I came here, but I don’t want to live alone anymore. You girls are like my own, and I want to be with you. We do need to change some things around here, though, if we’re all to be happy.”
Mom nodded, and I nodded, too. “You go first, Tannie. What would you like to change?” Mom asked her.
“Well, we could all be having a lot more fun together. My bones are fragile; I know that is a fact. I reckon I’ll have to use this rotten walker forevermore. But there is still a lot left that I can do. If I can’t dance the jitterbug anymore, I can still play a mean piano. I know I won’t be kicking a soccer ball with Jenna ball anytime soon, but I can sit down in a chair and watch her win games.”
Mom let Tannie keep on talking. “What else, Tannie? What else needs to change around here?”
“I can help around here more than I do. I know I can’t handle myself in the kitchen the way I did before this last fall. But I can surely teach you how to make pound cake. I probably shouldn’t try to vacuum while I’m on the mend, but I can fold clothes until the cows come home; that’s not going to hurt me.”
Tannie grinned at Mom and reminded her, “Grace, we all need help sometimes.”
Then Mom turned to me. “Jenna, how about you? What would you like to change around here?” Butt pawed my chin.
I pulled my Tannie List out of my back pocket. I looked at it hard before saying anything at all.
“Well,” I started, “I agree with Tannie. We could have more fun, like we could build a tree house, dig a garden, or hang birdhouses. Maybe we could bake the pound cake tonight.”
Mom nodded slowly. “Is there anything else?”
I looked at Tannie and smiled because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I had something even more important to say to Mom.
“Well,” I started again, and then swallowed hard to make sure that I said it right. “I mean, you haven’t tucked me in once since Tannie moved here.”
“Really?” Mom blinked and cocked her head. “Oh, Jenna.”
Mom got up from her chair and came to squat down by me. “I guess I have been so busy trying to take care of everything after work. Have I been taking care of everything but you?”
I didn’t answer.
Thankfully, Tannie spoke up. “What a good family meeting this has been! We know what I need — more fun. We know what Jenna needs — more fun, and more of her mother.”
I remembered the first family meeting rule. “Mom, now it’s your turn to talk.”
Mom thought for a minute. “The same, I suppose. I need more fun. I need you and Tannie to forgive me for being so bossy lately. And, I guess — I guess I do need some help around here, too. There, I asked for help.”
We all cleaned up after supper together, instead of Mom doing it all by herself.
Butt paced around the floor, flipping his pretty tail around, begging for scraps.
Tannie threw him a potato slice, and he ate it! Mom threw him a broccoli flower, and he ate it!
Tannie joked, “Butt, are you a vegetarian as well as a pacifist?”
Butt looked up at her and answered, Meow.
“Well, you learn something new every day.”
We all laughed.
We made our first pound cake together and then straightened up the house while it baked. Tannie and I sat in the dining room and folded clothes while Mom ran the vacuum. Butt hid behind the couch and pounced at Mom’s shoe when she came around the corner.
When Tannie’s grandfather clock started its eight o’clock bedtime chimes, I kissed Tannie good night, and she told me, “Sleep sweet, little Phoebe!”
Mom tucked Butt and me into my bed and read to us for a long, long time. She didn’t rush off to do chores or take care of Tannie. She cuddled up next to me and rested her eyes. We could hear Tannie downstairs playing a sleepy-sounding “Church Bells Do Chime” on the piano.
“That sounds nice,” I said. Butt curled up by me and kneaded a just-right spot on my Sunbonnet Sue quilt. Mom whispered, “Tannie’s right, Jenna Phoebe: being a family is supposed to be fun.”
I sat straight up. “I forgot something,” I blurted out.
Mom reached for the lamp. Butt stood up, stretched his pretty paws, and swished his tail high in the air.
“Sorry, Butt,” I said. “Will you hand me my Tannie List, Mama? And a pencil, too?”
I unfolded the paper and reread one through six.
I realized I had left out the most important one of all.
Number 7: Remember to ask for help sometimes, I wrote.
“That’s better.” I gave the list and the pencil back to Mom. “I added seven for a secret never to be told.”
She read my words and clutched the paper to her heart. “Not so secret anymore. I’ll make this my number seven, too! That way I won’t ever forget again.”
Mom kissed my nose and turned out the light.
The mama mockingbird perched outside my window decided my bedtime was just the right time for singing. I didn’t dream of Tannie or Butt or Mama. Or of roosters or chickens or soccer. I dreamed of fortune-telling crows and cedar waxwings, all loving and helping one another.
Dear Reader,
I bet you have a special older person in your life. Your Nana or your Dado? Or another elder, who lives in your building or on your street? A wise friend once told me, “Elders are superheroes.” I agree! If elders are superheroes, that means they have superpowers, right?
Just like Tannie in the book, my grandparents had the superpower of knowing all about birds. I first learned to identify backyard birds from my grandmothers, who often pointed out the flashy blue of a jay, the fiery red of a male cardinal, or the telltale tail-flick of a mockingbird. My granddaddy taught me to whistle the call of the quail: “Bob-white. Bob-bob white.” Even now, these birds remind me of my grandparents and of my childhood in Mississippi.
Counting crows is a game that my father learned from his mother, and he taught me. The tradition actually started hundreds of years ago with a British nursery rhyme about
magpies called “One for Sorrow.” Whenever I see a murder of crows (that’s what you call a bunch of crows hanging out together), I still count them the same way Jenna does.
Crows, you may know, are very smart birds. They can use their beaks to hammer and crack. They form tight-knit communities to protect and help one another. And scientists have proven that crows recognize the humans who share their space!
If you’d like to develop a bird-loving superpower of your own, here are some ideas to get started:
• The next time you visit a beloved older person, ask him or her to tell you a story about the birds of their childhood. Then you could share a story about the birds you’ve encountered.
• Compare life lists with an elder. (What? You haven’t started yours yet? You can begin right now! Chances are that wherever you are, whatever the time of day, no matter the weather, there’s a bird outside that you can hear or see.)
• Learn new words from birds. Some of my favorite bird words are clutch, perch, fledging, and cavity (the kind in a tree, not in your mouth).
Happy birding, and let me know what you see and hear!
Love,
Gigi
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2015 by Gigi Amateau
Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Abigail Marble
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First electronic edition 2015
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2014945701
The illustrations were done in graphite and ink.
Candlewick Press
99 Dover Street
