…The next day Momma went to the hospital. “Why did Momma go to the hospital?” I asked my grandparents. “She’s depressed,” Granddaddy said. Billy and I had pork chops with baked apples and sweet potatoes and baked onions and rice and gravy on our TV trays that night. I asked Billy again what “depressed” was, “Remember, Piglet, it means you are sad a lot and you cry a lot,” Billy said. “You know how Momma didn’t come out of her room lately? When I saw her eyes the other day it looked like she had been crying.”
I needed to think that over. “Depressed,” was a big word for a kid in kindergarten.
One day Grandmomma and Granddaddy took Billy and me to see Momma in the hospital. The hospital smelled so clean. We had to sit in a waiting room and someone brought Momma out to meet with us. I heard a heavy door open and close and just before it closed, I heard someone scream. Then, Momma was hugging Billy and me. She was crying. She stopped and said, “I’ll be home soon, little darlings. Granddaddy bought us a house. You will each have a nice bedroom. We will get a dog and have birthday parties and everything will be nice.”
“Can I have a piñata for my birthday party?” Billy asked. “Yes, you can. And Peggy you can, too.” “What’s a piñata?” I asked. And I looked outside and the sun was shining. “It’s an animal made of papier-mâché that you hang on a tree. You take turns hitting it with a stick and when it breaks open candy falls all over the ground,” Billy said importantly.