The screen door let out its usual screeching wail of protest as Margo opened it and stepped into the house. Wham! The loud smacking of wood against wood as the screen door settled back into its comfort zone. Sounds of home were not always quiet.
"Margo! Is that you?" Margo's mother was one of those not-so-quiet sounds. Della Manley had the voice of a barking master sergeant. Her fog horn volume coupled with her indifference to polite public etiquette sometimes made for uncomfortable situations. Margo once made the mistake of straying from her mother's side during a trip to the grocery store. It was as if the whole world stopped rotating and everyone froze to stare at her mother, hollering for her missing daughter. Red-faced with humiliation, Margo rejoined her mother and made a vow to never leave her mother's side in public again. Ever.
"Yes, Mama!"
"Get in here. I need help." Her mother was in the kitchen standing on a stool trying to reach something in a top cabinet. Barely five feet, Della was a contrast of characters. How could such a small body produce such a fierce volume of sound?
"What do you need?"
"I'm trying to get that old cast iron skillet down so I can make some cornbread. I saw a recipe in the Ladies Journal that said the only way to make real cornbread was in an iron skillet."
Margo smiled, shook her head, and jumped up on the stool, replacing her mother. Leave it to her mother, who had baked cornbread ever since Margo could remember, to change how she cooked based on one magazine article.
Grabbing the skillet, Margo passed the heavy beast down, and hopped off the stool. She watched as her mother prepared ingredients and could only look at her with fondness. Quirky and confident, her mother was a lively spirit. Margo envied her devil-may-care attitude about life. She seemed fearless and brave and willing to try anything and everything new.
"Guess what, Mama?"
"What's that?"
"Mama, you know my English teacher, Mrs. Thurmond? She told me about a contest. A writing contest. The prize is a scholarship to a literary college." Margo was excited as she spoke; a rare emotion for her. The tone of Margo's voice had stopped her mother's movements and she had turned to look at her daughter. Margo's eyes sparkled.
"Well, now. That sounds interesting. And where is this college? I reckon it's not in the next county."
"In Boston." Margo whispered the words. Boston was a half day's travel by train from their small town. Attending college was not something many folks did anyway, let alone a woman. To admit the desire to attend college, especially one that was so far away, was a bold move for anyone. The fact that Margo was making it was rather shocking.
Della knew her daughter had had a rough time in her few short years. Margo's classmates were mean and hateful to her sweet daughter. Della made a point to tell them off every chance she got. If Margo wouldn't stand up for herself, by golly, her mother certainly would. She looked at Margo now, and put a smile on her face and brave words in her mouth.
"Boston! I was thinking the other day about Boston and how they really needed another amazing writer. You would be perfect!"
Margo let out a girlish giggle and dipped her head. A knight in shining armor would be no match for the valor inside of her mother.
"Oh, Mama! I have to win the contest first. Who knows how many others will be trying to win too?"
Margo flew out of the kitchen, a bounce in her step. The smile Della wore on her face for her daughter's sake faded. She clutched a kitchen towel to her stomach, wringing it with nervous hands, and sank into a chair at the table. Boston. Her baby girl was going to leave her.
Her mother knew she would win that contest.
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