texts: I don't know. Maybe we should have moved.
labels: What'd be the point? Not a house in the country ain't packed to the rafters with some dead Negro's grief. We lucky our ghost is a baby. My husband spirit come back? Or yours? Don't talk to me! Ha..You lucky. You got one child left, still pullin at your skirts. Be thankful. I had eight. Eight with six fathers. Every one of them gone from me. Four taken, four chased and all, I expect, worrying somebody's house into evil. My first born - alls I can remember of her now is how she loved the burned bottom of bread. Her little hands..I wouldn't know'em if they slapped me. Can you beat that? Eight children and that's all I remember.