Peace, Locomotion

by Jacqueline Woodson

In Brooklyn

  On Gates Avenue, top floor.

  And about people who can’t see the sky

  From their windows.

  And I’m thinking about LaTenya

  Maybe sitting in her own window

  And watching a whole different world go by.

  I don’t know if it makes any sense. It just came to me fast, so I wrote it down. I hope you like it. See you the day after tomorrow.

  Peace,

  Lonnie

  Dear Lili,

  Today when you ran into my arms, you almost knocked me over, girl! When did you do all that growing?

  “Lonnie!”

  And when did your foster mama straighten your hair? And how come it hangs all the way down your back—like . . . guess?

  Yup. Like Mama. She would wear those braids all the time and then come Saturday night, they would get us that mean babysitter—what was her name? I’ll think of it. Well, they’d get all dressed up and Mama would have gotten her hair done—all straightened out and hanging just like yours. I almost fell over when I saw you, girl! Well, it didn’t help that you were almost knocking me over.

  “Lonnie! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

  And there you were, with your orange dress on and your white tights and pretty hair. And your face all smiling and shiny, just staring at me like you couldn’t believe your eyes.

  And then you were throwing your arms around my neck all over again and I thought, This girl ain’t never gonna let go.

  But then you did. And I love how we stood there, grinning like crazy. I put my arm around your shoulder and we walked over to where Miss Edna and your foster mama couldn’t be—that private area where they can see us but they can’t really hear what we’re saying. I told you to sit down and you said You sit down! in that new grown-up way you have of talking now. So we both sat down at the same time in those plastic chairs.

  When you said to me, “You always look so nice and everything,” and touched my braids, seemed like you be forgetting that I’m the older kid in this family! Then you said, Mama says you can come to church with us next week. I sat there a long time, thinking maybe I didn’t hear what I thought I heard. That’s why I asked What’d you just call her? because I couldn’t believe it. Your eyes got real wide and you looked confused. Then you looked scared because maybe something in my face was mad. I didn’t mean for it to be. But you know me better than anybody and you can see things that other people can’t see. Like the mad real deep down. And the sadness I be trying to not let get to me.

  “Mama,” you finally said. Real soft. “I called her Mama.”

  I felt like something was breaking inside of me. I felt like I could hear our own true Mama looking down at us and biting her lip to keep tears from coming.

  “She’s not your mama, Lili,” I whispered. I looked over to where Miss Edna and your foster mama were. They were sitting in the waiting area but they weren’t sitting together. Miss Edna was reading a magazine and your foster mama was reading her Bible. Then Miss Edna leaned over and said something to your foster mama and she nodded and said something back. Real soft, you told me you knew that. The room was hot. The agency had the heat going and the windows had steam on them. Somewhere I could even hear some steam coming out of a radiator. I looked around for the sound but couldn’t find it. I couldn’t look right at you for a while. I heard Miss Edna laugh and looked back over. She’d closed her magazine and was steady talking to your foster mama.

  “We got a Mama, Lili.”

  “That Mama’s in heaven,” you said. “I want a mama right here, Lonnie.”

  I thought about what Clyde had said about Miss Edna being my mama. Then you came over and hugged me.

  “That’s why I want you to be the rememberer,” you said. “I want the Mama I used to have and the Mama I got now. I don’t want to not have one or not have the other.”

  Your arms were still around my shoulder and I reached up and touched your hand. It was soft. Your nails had pink polish on them. Your fingers are long and brown—not like Mama’s—like Daddy’s. He always said I got Mama’s hands and you got his hands.

  “Mama used to read us a book called Stevie,” I said. “It was about this little boy and he came to live with this other little boy whose name was Robert. And Robert was older and he didn’t like Stevie because his mama paid all kinds of attention to Stevie.”

  That’s when you sat down again and folded your hands. You looked right at me. Listening. Waiting to hear more. You smiled and your eyes got a kind of faraway look—like you were right back there with our real mama, hearing the story.

  “So then Robert was always wishing Stevie’s mama would come and take him home.”

  “And then she did one day, right?”

  I nodded.

  “I kinda remember it, Lonnie. The big kid . . . Robert? Well, he was sad when Stevie went away, right?”

  I said yeah.

  “If Mama and Daddy came back to life and came and got me from my new mama, I’d be sad too.”

  I didn’t say anything. It was turning into a kinda sad visit.

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess.”

  But, Lili—I wasn’t telling the whole truth. I’d be a lot sad if I had to move away from Miss Edna and my brothers.

  ’Cause—yeah, I guess they are my brothers now, right?

  And you know something—I think Mama and Daddy would like them. I think they just want to make sure you and me are happy. And home safe.

  I love you, Lili.

  Your brother always.

  Peace,

  Lonnie

  Dear Lili,

  Today after school me and Angel and Clyde and Eric were playing ball in the freezing cold and Eric started saying he had a dream about Lamont and in the dream, Lamont was in his warm backyard in his big swimming pool. We all started talking about how lucky Lamont was to not have to be in New York City in the wintertime. I was so cold, my fingers were hurting, and Clyde couldn’t hardly talk because he was shivering so much. Eric kept running up to the basket trying to do layups (and missing) but the whole time he was talking about Lamont and the stuff they used to do together. He said one time him and Lamont walked all the way from Brooklyn to Harlem. It took us from the morning to the afternoon, he said. And by the time we got to One Two Five Street, our dogs was tired! Then Eric got this grin on his face and said it was real nice to just be walking with your friend and talking junk. We all said yeah because none of us had ever heard Eric talk that much about anything and see him be so happy with a memory. Angel said when the weather wasn’t so cold anymore we should all walk to Harlem in memory of Lamont and his crazy self. Then snow started coming down—first just a few flakes, then a whole lot, and we just stopped playing ball and stood there looking up at the sky. I think we were all thinking about Lamont. Maybe he was sitting in his pool with a soda in his hand, staring up at his own Florida sky and remembering us.

  Stay warm, Baby Sis.

  Locomotion

  Dear Lili,

  It’s dark outside. I went up on the roof and was sitting there looking at the stars. And I was talking to Mama and Daddy. You know how a long time ago, I told you that maybe that’s what they were now—stars? I told you that because you were just a little kid then and I wanted you to believe that Mama and Daddy was still with us. But then, guess what? Here’s the one true thing for today: A part of me started to believe it too and so I go up on the roof some nights and just stare up at the stars and whisper things that I’m thinking about and that I’m hoping.

  Sometimes the stars flicker.

  Like tonight—a little bit of light was coming off of one and then a little bit of light started coming off another one and then everywhere I looked, it seemed like the stars got that twinkling and flickering going on. You know what, Lili? I think they’re happy. I think Mama and Daddy are together up in that sky and I think they be looking down at us all the time. I think they know you got those new teeth you sh
owed me last time I saw you, and I think they know about you loving the color yellow, and about the war, and me loving poetry and Peace and everything. I think when people have to leave you on Earth, they don’t really be leaving you a hundred percent. I think some little part of them is always right here with us . . .

  Forever.

  Peace,

  Lonnie

  Dear Lili,

  We still haven’t gotten news about when Jenkins is coming home. Miss Edna cries and cries. Last night when I was talking to Mama and Daddy, I told them about everything that’s going on and stuff. And I asked them to send Jenkins home to us soon.

  I know you go to church with your foster mama every Sunday. And I know you think I should be praying to God for Jenkins, so that’s what I’m doing. And I’m asking everybody else to hope and pray real hard too. I figure you can’t have too much hope and you can’t do too much begging if you want something real bad, right? I know you love God and I know I love you and I love all the things you love (except pink and playing baby with dolls!). But Lili? Sometimes I’m sitting on that roof and it’s like Mama’s sitting on one side of me and Daddy’s sitting on the other and the both of them’s got their arms around my shoulders and we’re all staring up at the stars and smiling.

  And you know something else? You’re there, Little Sister. You’re sitting on Mama’s lap and your skinny little arm is pointing up at the stars. Some nights, I figure you’re looking at Orion’s belt—that’s the three stars just in this straight line. And some nights you’re looking at the Big Dipper and you’re telling Mama you want some soup!

  That’s the thing about people dying, Lili. You have all these frozen memories in your head and the longer they stay dead, the more your memory gets all gray—like I don’t know if we ever really all sat together up on a roof somewhere or not. I just know when I’m sitting there by myself, a part of me just gets all these pictures in my head—like a movie or something. And you know what, Lili? Me and you and Mama and Daddy are the stars of that movie.

  We’re the stars, Lili. We’re the heroes of the whole story. The Motion Family—a major motion picture. Can you even imagine?

  Tonight I went back up on the roof and said that out loud. I whispered, We’re the stars! And then the stars twinkled and twinkled. That made me smile, Lili. And the smile felt better than anything.

  Peace,

  Lonnie

  Dear Lili,

  I got up this morning and there wasn’t anything smelling like breakfast. Usually Miss Edna makes me eggs or pancakes or, if it’s Saturday, she makes French toast. It’s real easy to make—you just mix eggs and milk and some cinnamon and vanilla. Then you pour it on a plate and dip pieces of bread in that. Then you put the pieces of bread in a frying pan that butter’s melting in. You cook it until it’s nice and brown, then you turn it over. But guess what—there’s a secret to making French toast. You gotta poke it with a fork while it’s cooking. I don’t know why. Miss Edna just does that. She says her mama did it.

  Miss Edna’s mama died a long time ago.

  Our mama and daddy died when I was seven and you were four. And now Jenkins isn’t waking up. Seems like every time life starts straightening itself all out, something’s gotta go and happen.

  I took a shower and put on my clothes. The whole house was quiet. But while I was sitting in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal without any milk in it, Rodney came in. He was rubbing his eye with one hand and scratching his shoulder with the other. I almost smiled at that. He said, Hey, Little Brother, and I said Hey, yourself and asked him if he was okay. He say yeah and asked me if I was okay. I told him I was all right.

  Rodney sat down across from me and took a Cheerio out of my bowl. When you looked at him real good, all you saw was Miss Edna—Miss Edna’s mouth, Miss Edna’s black eyebrows. Miss Edna’s teeth with the space between the two front ones.

  “You need some milk with that,” he said. I told him we didn’t have any left and Rodney let out a deep breath and leaned back. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so I got a good look at all the muscles all over his body. Then I sat up a little straighter trying to stick my chest out. But I don’t really have muscles yet. Just skinniness. Milk’s supposed to help you build muscles and stuff. Usually, Miss Edna remembers to buy more when it’s running out.

  “Miss Edna sleeping?”

  “Yeah. I hope Jenkins wakes up because I don’t know what Mama . . .” He stopped talking and looked down at his hands. “I just hope he’s all right, Little Brother.”

  Rodney got up and got himself a glass of water. He stood in the kitchen watching me eat my cereal. Then he asked me if I was going to school and I nodded. He stood there another minute.

  “How’s school, Lo?”

  I told him I liked it okay. That it was a little bit better now that Miss Alina was our teacher.

  Rodney said that Jenkins really liked school when he was my age. Said Jenkins couldn’t understand why Rodney didn’t like school. When we was little, Rodney said, he’d be telling me how much he loved going to school because it was filling his head with all this new stuff and that new stuff was real exciting for him. Rodney looked at me, then he looked down at the floor.

  I told Rodney that I guess I’m a little bit like him and a little bit like Jenkins and that made him smile.

  “How you figure?”

  “Because I like school, you know, but I don’t be understanding a lot of stuff and when I do understand it, it’s like I got a new room in my brain that’s all filled with that stuff.”

  Rodney’s smile got a little bigger.

  I told Rodney that I bet Jenkins was gonna wake up. Wake up and come home. Rodney said, Thanks, Lo, but his voice broke all up when he said it.

  Then he sniffed and left the kitchen. A minute later, I heard the door to his room close.

  I got up and rinsed out my bowl. Then I took some money from the jar over the sink.

  Miss Edna likes milk in her coffee. I’d make sure that tomorrow there was some in the fridge for her.

  Tonight, I’m thinking about Peace, Lili. I’m thinking about Peace real hard because I don’t want to get drafted and I don’t want more people to get used up. I close my eyes and I see the peace sign. I draw peace signs on my notebook. I try to picture everybody putting down their weapons and no more wars anywhere.

  Peace,

  Lonnie

  Dear Lili,

  It was real nice to go to church with you today. I liked when your foster mama hugged me and told me she was glad I came. Maybe she was just doing it because the church ladies were watching. But it doesn’t matter. A hug’s a hug, right? And it seems like she smiles at me more and more these days, so maybe the hug really did come from her heart. When the choir started singing that song about hope being everywhere and when they started swaying from side to side in those red robes, it just looked like one big blanket of red moving back and forth, all slow and peaceful. And I liked when you went up there and you started singing with them and your voice was so beautiful, Lili. I can’t believe they let you sing that whole part all by yourself. I snuck a look over at your foster mama and she looked real proud. Like you were her true-blue child and you had been sent down from the heaven y’all were singing about just to be with her. But my favorite part was when you came back down the aisle and you were smiling and looking at me. And when you sat down between me and your foster mama, then leaned over and whispered, I sang really good because I knew you were listening.

  And I was. I really, truly was. You know what? There’s peace in your music, Lili. When the organ guy was playing real soft and the choir was just swaying and humming and that beautiful light was coming into the church from the yellow windows, I just sat there smiling because it was like somebody had floated over and pulled warm covers over me.

  Peace and Music,

  Lonnie

  Dear Lili,

  Guess what? Jenkins woke up today. And the first thing he did was ask for his mama. That’s what they told Miss
Edna when they called. She cried and cried. But she kept saying Don’t worry, y’all. These are happy tears. Strange how crying can be happy crying. But I could tell Miss Edna was telling the truth because she was smiling the whole time. When she hung up the phone, she hugged me and Rodney real hard. Then she went in her room, got on her knees and thanked God and Jesus and Jenkins’s guardian angel.

  Amen, Miss Edna said.

  Amen.

  Peace, Lili. Keep praying for Peace. There’s still a whole lot of guys over there.

  Love,

  Locomotion

  Dear Lili,

  One of Jenkins’s legs is missing. He’s coming home in a month.

  Love and Peace,

  Locomotion

  Dear Lili,

  It’s raining again. But it’s that crazy kind of rain with the sun shining behind it. When I went outside this morning, Clyde was sitting on our stoop.

  I been waiting in this rain for you, he said. He had his basketball and his hoodie pulled over his head. The ball was so wet, it was shining.

  I asked Clyde how come he didn’t ring my bell.

  ’Cause I like sitting in the rain, he said. And I knew that you’d come outside when it was time.

  I said when it was time for what and Clyde said back, Just when it was time for you to be outside.

  We played some taps and then we just dribbled the ball back and forth for a while. Clyde’s a real good dribbler and I tried to watch him to see if I could learn something. But he’s got fast hands, so the ball was just a blur. I told him Jenkins was coming home and Clyde kept dribbling but it slowed way down. He didn’t say anything for a while, then he said, That’s good, Lo. And he just kept on dribbling, like his mind was real far away. Then Clyde asked me if I was scared of meeting Jenkins. I said no and he looked at me and said, You sure? Then I just shrugged because I was a little bit scared.