Back Porch Blues, Too

If he didn’t come in off the back porch, and start helping her with the baby, she didn’t know what she was going to do.

Three times now she’d hollered at him that she had something on the stove and she needed to stand there and stir it, otherwise it wouldn’t set, and what would he say when his gravy was nothing better than brown water, so she couldn’t very well deal with their son crying in the other room, that he probably needed to be changed, and god help him if he just kept sitting out there, ignoring her.



Companion piece to this.


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