A New Beginning: My Journey with Addy

Addy and I hit the pavement, running. I look back once at the corner, and see the slave catcher is still running after us. Addy pulls me to the right and we run until I see the red bricks of the church. We pause to catch our breath quickly.

I tell Addy that I thought she was safe from people like that in Philadelphia. She shakes her head as we make our way down into the meeting hall, saying that she thought freedom would mean she could go anywhere she wanted, just like everyone else. But as long as there’s still slavery, we’ve still got to watch for slave catchers, even in the North.

I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell Addy that the kind of freedom I wanted was to get ice cream without my mom waiting in the car. Now that seems so unimportant.

When we get to the hall, we see Addy’s mother talking to Reverend Drake. She asks what we’re doing back, and Addy explains we were chased by a slave catcher. She says we’re all right, but we had to run. It was like escaping from the plantation all over again. Mrs. Walker pulls her daughter into a hug. We explain everything that happened to Reverend Drake, and he insists on walking us home.

When we’re on the sidewalk, Mrs. Walker holds firmly to both of our hands. I feel safer with her warm fingers wrapped around mine. But I’m still scared we’ll see the red-haired man again.

When we get to Addy’s home, we thank Reverend Drake for walking us. Then Addy and her mother lead me up two flights of steep stairs to the top floor. I hide my surprise when Mrs. Walker opens the door. Addy and her mother live in one room, and it’s smaller than my bedroom at home. The wood floor is bare, and there are no curtains in the window. The room is cold, and the only light is the afternoon sun slanting through the window.

Mrs. Walker goes to a table and lights a single candle. Addy takes off her bonnet and shawl and hangs them on a wooden peg on the wall. She turns to me and I hand my shawl over, and fumble with the ribbons under my chin. Addy hangs my items on the peg above hers.

Mrs. Walker tells us to sit down, since we had quite a scare, and promises to make us something warm to drink. She goes over to a squat iron thing in the corner. It’s connected to the wall by a thick pipe. Mrs. Walker sets a saucepan on top of it, and I realize it’s a stove.

I look around the room as Addy and I sit at the table. There are only two chairs. There’s one bed, and it’s not very big. The only other furniture is a small table against the wall, holding a white porcelain pitcher and a big white bowl. This is everything they own.

Addy and her mother don’t have much space, and they certainly don’t have room for company, but Addy is clearly thrilled I’m staying with them. I thank them for letting me stay, and Addy’s face breaks out into a grin. She says that they’ve never had company before. I tell her we call it a sleepover. Addy giggles and tells her momma that they’re having a sleepover.

Mrs. Walker lights a fire in the stove and the room starts to feel warmer. She dips the saucepan into the bucket of water and places the pan back on the stove. I tell the Walkers that their home is cozy. Addy says that her favorite part is the window. She can see the sky. Back on the plantation, their cabin didn’t have any windows. And they only had a dirt floor.

I don’t know what to say. Addy has almost nothing, and yet she’s excited about a window. Mrs. Walker puts two cups on the table. Steam floats from the top, and I wrap my chilled fingers around the cup in front of me. I expect hot chocolate, but maybe chocolate is a luxury for Addy and her mother.

Mrs. Walker says that Mrs. Drake gave her a cinnamon stick today, so she shaved a little extra flavor into our tea. Addy and I both take a sip. It’s very good. Mrs. Walker puts a plate with a small serving of sweet-potato pudding in the center of the table, along with two spoons. There are no other chairs, so Addy’s mother stands while we drink our tea and share the cold pie.

Soon, the warm tea and spices in the pie begin to relax me. I don’t know what time it is, but the sky outside the window is now a deep purple. I yawn. Mrs. Walker tells me that both of us have had a long day. As soon as we finish our tea, it’s bedtime. I don’t argue, but looking at the narrow bed, I wonder if we’re all going to fit.

Addy and I undress for bed, and I check that Grandpa’s coin is still tucked in my pocket before I fold up my dress to use as a pillow. Underneath my dress, I’m wearing some strange, old-fashioned underclothes, though Addy doesn’t seem the least bit surprised by them. I decide to sleep in my chemise, as Addy calls it, and keep my stockings on for warmth while Addy pulls on a long white nightgown.

A chilly draft blows in from the window, and I shiver as I crawl under the quilt next to Addy. There’s only the last glow of a dying fire in the stove, so we huddle close to stay warm. Addy mentions she used to share a pallet with Esther, and was thrilled to find a real mattress waiting when they moved here. I don’t know what a pallet is, but Addy’s “real” mattress is so lumpy that I’ve already rolled over twice, but I keep that thought to myself since she’s clearly proud of her home.

In the flicker of a single candle, I notice a dark leather cord around Addy’s neck and ask what it is. Her eyes light up as she shows me a small white cowrie shell that belonged to her poppa’s grandmother, who was stolen from Africa when she was no bigger than us and crossed the ocean alone. It was the only thing that Addy’s great-grandmother carried from home, and she wore it her whole life before passing it down through Addy’s poppa’s family, until Addy’s momma gave it to her the day they ran away. The cord itself is one of her brother Sam’s old shoelaces, so Addy tells me she carries a piece of him with her too.

I touch the small shell, struck by how many generations of Addy’s family are wrapped up in one little object. Maybe having something so real tying her to a history that stretches back so far is what makes history feel meaningful, instead of just something written in a book.

Addy yawns and tells me not to worry about tomorrow, promising she’ll be right by my side at school. Mrs. Walker, bent over some sewing by candlelight, tells us it’s time to go to sleep, and Addy squeezes my hand in the dark as we say our goodnights. It’s been an incredible day, and I realize that learning about slavery in school is nothing like hearing about it from Addy and having to run from it myself. My eyes grow heavy, and I give in to sleep, wondering what tomorrow will bring.