When Somethin’ Bad Happens

Monologue for Female

People think when somethin’ bad happens to someone—they git really sick, or git into an accident, their house burns down, or they lose their job—that they’re bein’ punished. Or worse, that God simply forgot to watch out for ‘em. Like he just shut his eyes and looked away.

I thought I growed up in a normal family. Had a sister one year younger than me. My momma and daddy were married for 40 years before my daddy died o’ cancer. A good part of that time, my daddy spent in jail. One of my first memories was my momma comin’ in to my room late one night. She knelt down by the bed where me and Janey, my sister, slept. Janey was asleep. Momma kissed me. Her eyes was all red. I could see it even in the dark. She said, “Daddy ain’t comin’ home for a while. He done somethin’ and now he’s in jail.” When momma left, I just remember holdin’ my sleepin’ sister. I don’t even know if I cried.

When Daddy came home a few years later, it was like we got a step-daddy instead. He loved us and all. He give us a spankin’ here and there when we deserved it, but he never hurt us. All he really ever had to do was look at us and we just withered like a dried up grape. He hollered at my momma a lot, though. Called her stupid. He’d kiss us good night before we went to bed. But he was kinda just hollow, like the insides of him was just gone or hidden away somewhere. He only cried in front of me one time, and that was right before he died. He went to jail agin when I got older, almost died in there but someone had mercy on a sick ol’ man and they let him go home to die.

He was in there a long while that time. Missed me havin’ my babies. I birthed three. Only Jodi’s still here. Livin’, I mean. Little Charlie died when he was ‘bout 6 months. He was born too early and just could never catch up. ‘Monia got him. Jodi came next and she was healthy as a horse. Still is. Katie was last. She was fine till she was about two and then she just went away. I don’t mean she died, I mean she just wasn’t there anymore. Kinda like she just went inside herself to hide from the world, and never come back.

When Jodi was about 12, her father changed his mind about bein’ married. I moved back near home so my momma could help me out with Katie when I was workin’. I never finished school so I had to work my back more than my head. But I could read. I’d read at night before I went to sleep. I’d read my Bible. And I’d pray. I ask God so many times, what was on his mind when he knit me together in my momma’s womb. Had he really ordained these kinds of days for me? Had he meant for me to hurt so. I kept thinking it must be somethin’ that I’d done or didn’t do to make him so mad at me. But the more I read, the more I understood. It was kinda like the mist disappearin’ in the morning. Like the night had just cried itself all out.

I seen that I was just a pot. You know, a pot of clay. At first I was confused ‘cause any useful pot got handles that sits right on their hips like they don’t like how their maker made ‘em. Like they got a reason to be angry. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized. It doesn’t matter what shape it’s in, where it’s been, whether it got scuffed up or even a little cracked. Heck, I got a pot that I broke in a half-dozen pieces and glued back together. It’s actually one of my favorites ‘cause it’s been through so much. I looked at that pot and I realized, God never promised me my life would be simple or easy. He never said that I would get all I want. And, you know, my life may be hard until the day I die. What he did promise on the other side is heaven. Now that may not be much cons’lation for me when I’m feelin’ sorry for myself. But what he did promise me here was that, if I let him, he would make me something better than rich, better than healthy. He’d make me useful. See, it don’t matter how the pot looks or where it sits. What matters is what you put in it, and then even more importantly, what pours out.

©2005 K.K. Pullen