CHAPTER 64
The double garage had been a sound choice. When we had narrowed our search to a couple of properties, that had been the clincher. Our estate agent (neither of us believed in imaginary estates) had been full of humour, repeating a phrase I had heard more than once before.

When the original houses were built, he said, you’d sometimes see your next door neighbour. As time went on, that compressed to hearing them, and with the current developments, where there was what seemed like six feet or so between your own eavesdrop and next door’s guttering, you could just about smell those across the property line.

The lynching tree is the oldest living thing on our farm. It was here when the first white men
came and it’s still here and growing. I guess the black folks around here have always called it that. Back when I was in elementary school Reverend Amos James began calling for the tree to be destroyed as “a symbol of white oppression.” That’s when everyone started calling it the lynching tree. Before that we just called it the big oak.

The Manchester Early Summer Carnival
A “How I Spent My Summer Vacation: I became a Girl” Gaiden
By
Rebecca Coleman

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Searching for the Perfect Bathing Suit