jg.paintedhouse-第72节

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　　　After　a　few　minutes　I　was　released　to　roam　around　the　station　and　inspect　things。　There　was　a　small　cafe　where　two　army　boys　were　drinking　coffee。　I　thought　of　Ricky　and　realized　I　would　not　be　there　when　he　came　home。　I　saw　a　family　of　Negroes；　a　rare　sight　in　our　part　of　Arkansas。　They　were　clutching　their　bags　and　looked　as　lost　as　we　did。　I　saw　two　more　farm　families；　more　refugees　from　the　flood。
　　　When　I　rejoined　my　parents　they　were　holding　hands　and　were　deep　in　conversation。　We　waited　forever；　it　seemed；　then　finally　they　called　for　us　to　board。　The　duffel　bags　were　packed　in　the　cargo　section　under　the　bus；　and　we；　too；　climbed　on。
　　　My　mother　and　I　sat　together；　with　my　father　right　behind　us。　I　got　the　window　seat；　and　I　stared　through　it；　missing　nothing　as　we　maneuvered　through　Jonesboro　and　then　got　on　the　highway；　speeding　along；　going　North；　still　surrounded　by　nothing　but　wet　cotton　fields。
　　　When　I　could　pull　my　eyes　away　from　the　window；　I　looked　at　my　mother。　Her　head　was　resting　on　the　back　of　her　seat。　Her　eyes　were　closed；　and　a　grin　was　slowly　forming　at　the　corners　of　her　mouth。
　


　
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