Sunflower Graveyard is the dynamic tale of one woman's life told in 78 crystallized vignettes. This novella explores the main character's struggle with faith and her quest to unearth the meaning of existence.
There isn’t a child who’s ever been born who didn’t know how to pitch a fit.
There are some who say, “That ruckus ain’t never happened under my roof!” But having been a youngin’ and a Mama too, I’ve come to know that this just isn’t so. Years color our memories, making some times sweeter, some times more soulful than they really were.
One time, when Gabriel was right about four, I’d been painting the shutters and windowsills. I had this big ladder leaned up against the house. The heat of the sun had just about melted the paint right off. Big chips were pulling away from the frame and the wood was beginning to rot.
Gabriel was down on the ground. There was a big pile of dirt, a spade, a bucket and a beat up truck that Mama had found down at the flea market for him to play with. When he saw me up on that ladder, his determination was unstoppable. He was going to climb up come Hell or high water.
Lucky for me, Mama came around the corner right about the time he reached for the fifth rung. She pulled him away and told him, “Gabriel, you ain’t goin’ up it, no way, no how.”
Well, he set to, just hollering and kicking and beating the earth with his fists. Seems the first time I remember taking note of the fire in his belly, and you couldn’t do anything but laugh, because a child throwing a tantrum is just like a storm that comes up out of nowhere. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s just a freak of nature.
Indeed.
Sometimes pitchin’ a fit is not limited to children.