Give Me Grace

Chapter 1

Part One

There was a time, when I was a little girl, that I believed I could conquer the world. Everything was possible and I was determined to do everything.

I grew up poor, but that didn’t stop me from believing I could do everything. It was just a road bump; nothing permanent. And once I was old enough, I could get a job to help fund my ventures and aspirations. 

My family lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Well, it used to be a farm. Now, it was pretty much a run-down shack that was left behind by the former owner my mother used to work for. When he was around, it flourished with livestock and crops, but now it was an unkept plot of unused land.

The former owner, Mr. Bates, was sick for a long time and had no family to take care of him. He had acres of farmland that he made a fortune off of. He used to raise cattle, harvest various fruits and vegetables, and even held his very own farmers market.

Although he had the means to upgrade his house, he always talked about the simple things in life. He was also poor growing up. An orphan who enlisted in the military at eighteen. After serving for ten years, he got a job working in a factory. He saved all the money he earned until he had enough to rent this house. Then, in exchange for paying rent, he worked the land for the owners.

The owners were grateful for his help and when they passed, they left all of their land to Mr. Bates. Of course, this only pissed off their children who tried to sue Mr. Bates for the deed to the land, which he won. And after years of hard work, he turned a profit on the land. 

When my mother came to work for Mr. Bates, he was still very self-sufficient. He still worked the land and took care of the animals, but he needed help in other areas. He never had children and his wife tragically passed away in a tragic accident. She was pregnant and the baby also died along with her. He never remarried after that, and instead put all of his energy into his work.

My mom was a caregiver. She took care of Mr. Bates and his house while he worked and went through treatment. After starting work, my mother told him that the commute to the farm was a hassle,  so he moved us into his house. It was a small three-bedroom, two-bathroom house, and very cramped.

Mr. Bates had the master bedroom, of course, which had a bathroom attached to it. My parents shared another room and my two siblings and I shared the third. It wasn’t ideal, but we couldn’t complain. It was still a total upgrade from the one-bedroom apartment we had prior to moving in with Mr. Bates. Though we all still shared one bathroom.

Mr. Bates also didn’t charge us rent, he only asked that we take care of the land while my mother took care of him. We did. At least for a while. But after he died, everything stopped.

Before Mr. Bates was bed-bound, he would still work out on the farm. He knew that one day he would be too weak to keep it up, so he taught us how to take care of everything for when that time came.

Every day, after school, we would do our homework and then tend to the farm. We learned how to plow, seed, and harvest the crops. He taught me how to care for the animals and when to know which were ready to be sold. It was a lot of work, but it was rewarding.

I was his favorite, however. I spent hours talking to him, listening to the various stories he had to tell. Learning as much as I could. He was a very active man in his youth and even up until he got sick, he was always doing something amazing. It was because of him I felt like I could do anything. He taught me the most in the short few years I got to spend with him.

He told me I was the one who needed to keep my family in check. Although he loved my siblings and I as if we were his own, he didn’t trust everyone. He knew that once his life was over, things would change and his precious farm may suffer. But he still wanted it to prosper while he was alive, even if he couldn’t do it himself. So, he continued to teach me everything I needed to know.

Unlike my siblings and parents, I learned how to manage the farmer’s market, negotiate prices, read the financial books for the market and agriculture, and manage inventory. Essentially, I learned how to make this place prosper. I understood taxes, animal and crop health, and how to survive off what we produced. I was nine when I met him; and I practically ran the farm on my own at the delegate age of thirteen, thanks to him.

When I was fifteen, Mr. Bates died in his sleep. It was peaceful for him, but it hurt like hell for me. He was the grandpa I never had, the dad I wish I had, and the friend I needed. I took it hard. And after a couple of attempts to end my life, I decided I was going to live the life Mr. Bates would have wanted me to. I found solace in his memory and the stories he told me. As long as I could remember him, he would stay alive. And so would I. 

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