Sisters are different flowers from the same garden.
Esther at eight months with Rachel at age five.
Auntie Clay was a colored lady who lived near us. She was born a slave, grew up a slave until freed, and she helped my mother do a lot of things. She would come and work in the garden. Help can. At butchering time she was a great help. She’d done so many things in her life that she just knew how to do everything. And when my sister [Esther] was born there wasn’t any of the modern foods of course, and my mother didn’t have any nurse for her at first. So I remember Auntie Clay sitting at the corner of the cook stove, with a little pan on the stove, with tea in it. She kept it warm on the stove and would dip a spoonful out at time into a dish onto a cracker, make the cracker real soft, and feed that to this newborn baby who seemed to like it very much. And for three or four days all she had was tea and crackers and the love that Auntie Clay gave her.
The following is an MP3 audio file of Mama telling the same story as quoted above: