A New Beginning: My Journey with Addy

Decorating sounds interesting. I love making things pretty at parties back home. I think of Gran, who always likes the table set nicely, and Grandpa, who makes everything he cooks look beautiful when he serves it. Maybe that’s where I get my own interest in decorating.

Addy and I find the decorating committee, and a woman puts us to work tacking wide strips of red, white, and blue fabric to the fronts of tables. The fabric feels smooth and light under my fingers. Addy tells me it’s bunting, the same kind used to make American flags.

We drape it between us, trying a big bow first, but it only droops. I suggest tacking it down and twisting it instead, and soon the bunting ripples into waves of red, white, and blue that draw a few compliments from other volunteers. “You’re good at this,” Addy says. I tell her I’m better at this than sewing, and we both laugh, since it’s easier to admit what I’m struggling with than to keep hiding it.

An older woman admires our work and introduces herself as Mrs. Adams, gesturing to her husband seated behind her. Mr. Adams waves from his chair, one hand tucked inside a leather shoe he’s buffing to a shine. A lost art, according to Dad. When I admire how new the shoes look, Mrs. Adams says her husband can make anything look new again, and Mr. Adams jokes that he can’t say the same for his own gray beard and wrinkled face. Addy and I giggle, and I think Mr. Adams and Grandpa would get along well.

Mrs. Adams tells us they arrived in Philadelphia only a few weeks ago, having run from a plantation in Georgia. They tell us their children were scattered to different plantations years ago, and they only hope to find them again once the war ends. I think about how my own grandparents must miss my Dad even though we always know exactly where he is and when he’s coming home, and I tell the Adamses that being apart doesn’t make a family any less strong.

Addy’s face brightens, and she declares that the Adamses can be part of her family now. She leads us all across the hall to meet Momma. Mrs. Walker welcomes them warmly and promises to help however she can, and Mr. Adams says the journey was hard, but worth it. He may be an old man, but he’s a free one.

Addy explains to her momma that the Adamses are alone right now, with their children scattered, and Mrs. Walker agrees at once that a family can’t ever be too big. Mrs. Adams offers to help with the cooking, and the two women head for the kitchen together while Mr. Adams squeezes Addy’s arm in thanks before returning to his shoes.

I tell Addy how kind that was of her, and she insists anyone would have done the same. I’m not so sure that’s true. Before today, I doubt I’d have invited two strangers to be part of my own family so easily. Addy repeats her momma’s words, that a family can’t be too big, and I think about how strange it felt at first having Gran and Grandpa around all the time, and how normal it feels now. They came with new rules that took getting used to, but they also came with good stories and their own ways of doing things, and our family is different because of them, in a good way.

When I finally answer Addy, I tell her a family really can’t be too big, and I mean it. I know that when I go home, I’ll be grateful for the family waiting for me there.