Thelma Lampkins

Surviving Them People Thelma Lampkins

[June 25, 1988 - 1:14 a.m.] Even covered in my blood, she was adorable; smart too. She was terrified. My oldest daughter had barely been on this earth five years, and she had seen far more than any child should have to. In the middle of the night, after she dressed me, she had dressed herself. My body was beaten, battered, and bloodied, but my little girl found me. She found the strength to get clothes on me when all the strength I had was focused on keeping me alive. I still remember those white patent leather Easter shoes she'd put on her feet. She loved those shoes. She loved to play dress up. No games on this particular night. My oldest was still a baby, but that night, my little girl was well beyond her years. "Penelope." I forced my lips open and tried to speak. It had never been so hard. Just to utter her name, took effort, strength. Neither were easy to deliver. I wasn't sure how I made it to my car. My eyes were failing me. My vision, blurred and dim. The dashboard of my car could have been a mile away and the steering wheel not far from it. I couldn't drive, didn't have the strength to even turn the key in the ignition. "Penelope," I called for my oldest daughter again. "Yes, mommy?" she answered. "Where-where are you going?" I asked. She was by my side through my struggle with the seat, the steering wheel, and the ignition. I could feel her eyes on me. She was strong. She didn't shed one tear, but I was her mother. I had to be stronger, for her and her younger sister. I had to survive this. I had to be alive for them. The man Grandma May called 'Them People' had really done a number on me this time. My body was cold and the feeling had gone from my hands. That flash from his gun was still seared in my mind. Yeah, the man Grandma May called 'Them People' loved me. At least most of the time I believed he did. But tonight, his love almost killed me. Something told me I wasn't going to die this time, but as the world grew fuzzier and Penelope's voice more distant, I still had my doubts. "Did you hear me?" "Yes, Mommy. I heard you."