Sadie wrinkles her forehead trying to connect with the articles in the little case. They seem so random yet as she reflects, she expresses pain and some torment.
Remembering a lot of alcohol beside her father and her mother's constant whining/badgering tone, suddenly the pain is relived; the violence toward her mother begins with a lot of yelling, the cat gets kicked across the room and then the hitting starts.
Why won't her mother just drop the subject? HE'S DRUNK for Pete's sake! Off to the woods where a little man made slide is tucked away in the trees. Sadie slides, eating huckleberries and waiting for the storm inside the house to end. The storm didn't end, it wouldn't until she left home.
The handkerchief, aaaahhhhhh, soft and clean, would dab the tears from Sadies face. Her face and bottom are hot. Tears and welts. Mom wouldn't stop and Sadie felt the need to protect her mother. It backfired and the belt came out. This is the suitcase where Sadie was labeled a rebel, smartalek, and a brat.
The labels were wrong! Many years and God's tremendous grace and mercy would bring that to light one day while taking a moral inventory of her life.
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