An Apothecary Girl

“John!” I yell up the stairs “Time to get up,”

“But mama I don’t want to!”

“John! you get up this instant,” I say sternly “today you are going to work with your father,”

I hear his little feet crawl out of the bed and then he puts his clothes on, he is so cute, I think. Then I see him quietly tip toeing down the stairs, trying not to be noticed. “John,” I say again. “breakfast is on the table,” I see his longing eyes look at the piece of bread and glass of water on the table. Johns hair  is blonde, like mine, his eyes are brown, like mine, and he has very delicate features. John is one of my four children, I have him, Isaac, Eli and my only girl, Phoebe. They are all very good children. My husband Leo is 21 and he is tradesperson. He has short brown hair and blue eyes, he is quite handsome. As for me, I am 16, my name is Annabelle. I work as a midwife and an apothecary worker. I have two brothers and three sisters who all live I the colony with their own families. “Are you boys ready to work today?” says Leo walking in.

“Yes dad.” all the boys reply. They get up, put on their shoes and walk out the door. Leo hugs Phoebe and I and then walks out the door. “Well I guess it’s just you and I that have to go to work now.” I say to Phoebe.

I had just finished the remedy; the sweet, sugary smells of the boiling marsh mallow fill my body, making me almost, happier.  I watch the fire with the large pot hanging over it and enjoy the warmth and happiness cover my body in a blanket. Then I take the pot off the fire and pour the liquidy substance into a small glass mason jar. I place the jar on the medicine shelf  along with all the other remedies. The shelf is on the other side of the room, across  from the fire. It is wood and about eight feet tall; an inch away from the ceiling, and it is old and worn. The smell of pine still lingers in the wood, and when I smell it I think of my father. My father was the one that brought our family over to the colony. He was a poor carpenter in England who sought a new life. He is dead now, but that shelf gives me a nice reminder of him. Next to the medicine shelf is a small table with a basin of water and a bowl. The bowl and basin are made of silver and are also old and rusting. In front of the shelf and table is a counter, it is made of cheap wood on the base, and it has a smooth, cold marble counter top. On weekdays, when the shop is open I stand behind the counter, greet customers and get them what they need.  Besides the medicine shelf, table, counter and fire the room is bare. There is nothing else in the room except for a chair, which is in front of the fire. After I finish the marsh mallow root remedy I unwillingly sigh and look at the next order that had been made, a cure for typhoid. I shudder at just the thought of it, but start the ointment.

The ointment for typhoid is rather simple, it’s just a mix of oil and wax. So I take out a bowl, a mixing spoon, wax and oil and get to work. First I heat up the wax by putting it by the fire, then I dump the soft wax into the bowl and add oil. After I add the oil to the wax I mix them together and it creates a plastery texture. Which, if I were using, would be but on the affected area. Typhoid is one of the many diseases that goes around in Jamestown, and I often find myself making this particular ointment. I have realized that my profession is very important. If it weren’t for me the whole town would probably be dead. There are so many diseases in the new word that nobody knew about when they first came. Also when people first came to the new world nobody cared about healers, they thought that they didn’t need us; we were almost lower than peasants by social class. As time went on, in Jamestown people started to get sick and were cured by the apothecary and healers respect was gained for us, and now we are high in social class.