January/February 2005

It was a dark, cloudy evening when Father told us the news. Our family was gathered around the worn dinner table in the small kitchen of our farmhouse. My father was sitting in his usual seat at the head of the table, his callused hands clasped together and his elbows resting on the faded tablecloth. He looked from me to my eleven-year-old brother, James, and finally to my mother. Her eyes looked sad as she met his nervous gaze. They had been strangely quiet all through dinner. As eleven- and thirteen-year-old children, my brother and I rarely spoke at the table unless we were spoken to. Mother took a deep breath. “Jack,” she said quietly. “What’s done is done. We must tell the children.” She sighed and brushed a strand of blond hair out of her brown eyes. Father nodded. His face was lined with sorrow, which startled me. He was a strong man. Everything about him seemed sturdy. He stood six feet tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, with sunburned skin from years of working in the cornfields of our farm in upstate New York. It was usually hard to tell his inner emotions because he never let them show. “Times are tough all over,” Father said slowly and reluctantly. “These past few years have been hard on all the farmers around here.” I knew this was true. Although my parents didn’t talk to my brother and me about it, we had overheard our parents talking. Our crops had been doing badly for the past two years, and we had been able to sell very little of our harvest. I knew my father had had to borrow money from the bank in town just to keep the farm going. He was a proud man and hated to do it, but he had had no choice. “Times are tough all oven” Father said slowly and reluctantly “We’ve lost the farm,” he finally said. He looked down and shook his head. James froze with shock. I was thunderstruck, clutching the edge of the old wooden table to keep from falling out of my chair. James and I were both born in the little farmhouse. It was all we had ever known. There was a long silence. We all expected Father to continue, but he seemed unable to. My mother, sensing this, said softly, “We owed the bank more money than we could repay. We held on as long as we could.” She paused. “The bank is taking the farm.” “Where will we go?” James asked fearfully, his voice shaking. I looked at Father, wondering what would become of us. “West Virginia,” Father replied quietly. “We’re going to West Virginia. There was a man in town last week from a coal mine down there. He says they have jobs, and the coal company will pay for our train tickets and give us a house when we get there. Your mother and I have discussed it, and we think it’s best. There’s always a job open there, and if I do good work, I’ll be well paid.” He paused and looked at each of us. “We leave on a train next Wednesday.” No one said anything for a long time. I turned and looked at James. His dark green eyes were full of a sadness deeper even than mine, and he looked as though he might cry I restrained myself from reaching out to grab his hand, though I wanted to badly. But I knew that he didn’t like me touching him, now that he was eleven and “growing up” as he put it. Mother cleared her throat. “It’s getting late,” she said briskly. “James, Anna, you should be in bed.” James and I silently got up from the table and cleared and washed the dishes, as we did every night. Then we went upstairs. We stood at the top of the stairs, not knowing what to say. James whispered, “Anna, I don’t want to move.” I replied, “Neither do I. But there’s nothing we can do about it. At least we’ll all be together.” Later, as I pulled my thin blanket tight around me, I tried to imagine what West Virginia would be like. It was my last thought as I drifted off to sleep. *          *          * The days until we left passed quickly. Everything was a blur. A man from the bank came, and there was an auction to sell off the farm equipment and what little furniture we had. Father stood outside, stony-faced, watching as things were carted away. James, Mother, and I remained inside, unable to watch. We busied ourselves, packing the few things we would be taking with us into trunks. Sadly, we bid our few neighbors farewell. It seemed that only a few minutes had passed from the moment of Father’s announcement that we were moving to the time that we were boarding a crowded train to West Virginia. I had never been on a train before, and for the first time in days I was looking forward to something. The journey was to last five days, Father told us, for the train would make frequent stops along the way to pick up passengers. My excitement soon wore off, for the train was stiflingly hot and crowded, and it moved sluggishly. I tried to begin a conversation with James not five minutes from the start of the journey, but it was difficult to hear each other or concentrate on what we were saying. There was so much noise, and so many people who couldn’t seem to keep from treading on my feet. As we neared New York City, James and I stared in awe through the grimy window at the bustling city We had never seen such big buildings before, or so many people. As we disembarked from the train to get some air and something to eat, Mother seemed nervous and cautioned us to stay close. We bought some sandwiches from a street cart and sat