Responsibility of Being Young

All I knew concerned my
errand and I felt proud
to be entrusted with that.
My breathless haste prompted
bare legs and feet. Father
needed Andrew to help with
the work, and I knocked at
his mother’s door. The woman
who opened it had long sad eyes.
‘‘He can’t come,’’ she explained,
‘‘he drownded Sunday, they was
all swimming and he drownded.’’
Her words flew over my head,
their sense out of my reach.
‘‘But Papa wants him,’’ I insisted,
‘‘to help with the work.’’
‘‘He drownded yesterday,’’ she said
and gently closed the door.
I stood outside, hands full
of my unfinished errand, wondering
if Father would be cross with me.