Glee and Gloom

Sitting there, reading his college acceptance letter word for word, Gabriel first felt a rush of joy, and the sensation was incredible. He had done it! He had studied, learned, and earned his way into the most prestigious institution of higher learning for people of color in the entire nation. He had even been granted free tuition. The letter was confirmation that everything he thought about himself and everything others believed about him from the day he was born was indeed true – he was special, chosen, and destined for greatness.

His second read of the letter, though, drew him out of his initial glee as the reality of the partial monetary award struck a nerve. His family had absolutely no money, none at all. Food, clothes, and the tiny cabin where they slept were paid for every day by their labor in Robert Peterson’s fields. With regard to money matters, they lived life in an upside-down position. They all lived knowing, with little doubt, that Robert Peterson’s bookkeeping was certain to ensure that their circumstances would continue until their dying days.

They worked for the sake of a meager existence and for the sole purpose of the Peterson Plantation’s profit margin. The harsh reality was that his family did not have a way to pay for their most basic needs. He could not imagine he would ever be able to come up with the money he would need to house.

By the third time, Gabriel read the letter he had waited so long to receive, he was overwhelmed by the gravity of the implications and the thoughts his college acceptance must have triggered in the mind of the wicked one who had placed the announcement in his hands. And suddenly, Gabriel understood exactly why Robert Peterson had instructed him to thank Eli “right away” for fetching him up to the main house.

As he ran past the raggedy shack he called home and over toward his neighbor’s yard, Gabriel’s heart sank at the sight of his elderly neighbor and friend. Eli, a gangly, tall, but incredibly small-framed man, sitting on his own makeshift porch, hunched over, breathing deeply, drenched from head to toe in sweat and blood.

“Eli, what happened?”

“Well, I got to beg your pardon, Gabriel. I didn’t get to wait on your folks. Ole’ Mistah Robert sent the field boss after me. I reckon I didn’t run fast enough; I didn’t get you up there as directly as Mistah Robert wanted me to. So, ole’ Eli had to spend some of his days off with the whip.”

“I’m so sorry, Sir. So sorry…”

Abruptly interrupting Gabriel, Eli lifted his head as he began to speak; his voice was gruff with anguish and frustration, for any and every inch of movement sent a seething jolt of pain up and down his spine and throughout his entire body. He closed his eyes and winced as he confronted his young neighbor.