Humanities                                                                How I Got This Farm:  

Ruby                                                                                 7A December, 3, 15

I wake up in the morning groaning, wishing my whole life was a dream or a nightmare. It’s been almost three years since John had died in the army and my miscarriage happened but the feeling never disappears.

I get up, looking around my room. It’s small but I’m not poor. I’m Jane Taylor. I was a widow at 18 and now I am 21. After my husband died because he was in the army, I inherited our farm. After his death I had a miscarriage and my baby died. I’m in the middling class which is why I have to keep our farm up and running so that I can stay alive. It’s not a bad life but my husband used to do all the work. I now own a big farm with a tobacco field and I own three slaves but I’m not as strict on them as our neighbors.

“Work Faster!” I hear almost like they read my thoughts. As the echo from down the street bounces off our house. I can hear the huge farm next store as the master whips a slave. She’s a woman probably older than 30 and she hasn’t been working as fast as their other slaves. John used to be very strict on our slaves before he died. I never liked that about him. I think that everyone is equal but I know that i’m a women so my opinion doesn’t matter. I’m starting to worry that I have been bewitched because my opinion is like no other people.

Ever since I was little I had wanted to be a farmer. When my dad wasn’t looking I used to plant flowers in the garden behind the church. They were so beautiful that some people came to look at them after church every day, even my father who just wanted me to marry someone rich and white admired them! I thought that if I married a farmer, my dream would finally come true and I could partly own a farm. I was very fortunate and I found a single man that owned a farm and was in the army. Lots of people died in the army and I knew that once he died I would inherit the farm. When I met him I knew that my plan would work. My father approved of the marriage because John had a lot of money. We got married two months later and finally after three years my dream came true and I became a widow.

I walk outside to look at my farm. It’s just turning fall and the leaves are starting to turn red. I will be needing to go to the tailor soon before the frost comes in so that I don’t get any illnesses.

“Cock a doodle doooo!”

“Well at least I now know what time it is,” I say out loud. Sometimes I get lonely for nobody would care if I died or got hurt. It wouldn’t change anyone’s life. My family all died and even if they were alive they wouldn’t want anything to do with me because I’m a widow and my father hates widows because they have more rights than other women. He, like all his other rich white friends think that women are property. The only thing that makes me happy anymore is farming.

I walk over to where I keep the chickens. Most people have chickens for eggs or meat but I think that they are just like humans. They’re harmless little animals and they just aren’t as smart as some of us. don’t get why us people take advantage of that. I don’t tell anyone including the other workers at my farm, but my chickens don’t act wild. Ever since they were little chicks I made it so that they aren’t afraid of me, it really shows how much time I have around here with john gone.

I reach in the chicken pen and I take out my favorite chicken as I look up to the sky. The sun is just coming up and the sky has streaks of red, orange and yellow. This is always my favorite time of day. It’s the place that I gain hope when my life gets hard. This is why I get up when I do. I can think about myself and my life and while I think about it, I get to see this beautiful scenery almost like a painting that the artisans do. I think about how fortunate I am to be able to pursue my dream of farming.