Red at the Bone

by Jacqueline Woodson

His baby girl was coming down those stairs and he was crying now, outright and silently, and no one had told him what to do with his hands.

He would give his own life to see Melody able to stay this young, to see her live her teenage life—all the years. He wanted to pull her to him now. Say, Hold on to yourself, Melody. Don’t get lost. He wanted to say again what he’d said to her so many times before. You’re loved, baby, you’re loved.

They had always been soft-spoken. Because they had always been afraid.

Hadn’t thought about the baby growing into a child and one day that child becoming her own age—and older than that.

lips. I was fifteen, she whispered into them. Fifteen. I wasn’t even anybody yet.

And me and your grandma held hands and each said our silent thank-you to the same God we had come close to cursing only months before.

Smile he passed down to Iris and she handed on to Melody. Lord, I will love that man’s smile till I die.

You feel like dancing? he asks me, and I nod. Because I know I don’t have a whole lot more dances with him. I know the dance card God gave us is almost punched through.

Now Aubrey threw his head back and laughed out loud, then looked down to see his daughter’s own laughter. He had never imagined a love as deep and endless as this.

are u kidding!??? SOBBING

I’m old, but I’m trying. Hoping when I get to the gates, God will look down at His book and say, You did good, Sabe. Come on home now. Come on home.