“Auntie?” I called. “Yassuh?” She had on a blue striped head rag and a dirty faded old feed-sack dress that blew in the wind against her knobby legs. She walked awful slow. “Make haste, we need some hep!” I yelled. I don’t know what I thought she could do. Give us a bucket, maybe. “Yassuh, I’s comin’! But I cain’t make no haste.”
