Read an Excerpt
Fourth Street
By Anastasia Means-Dallas
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Anastasia Means-Dallas
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-0900-4
Chapter One
I used to wonder why Fourth Street was OH so special! Maybe it was because Ms. Mattie, the neighborhood candy lady who would sell me now and laters candy, windmill cookies, and big bol bubba gum just $.25. She would bag each little customer's bag with care, as the oil from the cookies would seep the brown bag each time before I reached home.
Maybe Fourth Street was special because of Ms. Hattie Mae, who made the best Dixie cups in the land for. My favorite flavor was peach, because the cherry flavor always made me look like Count Dracula.
I know what made Fourth Street special. It wasn't because of Ms. Mattie's tasty treats, or Ms. Hattie Mae's Dixie cups, it was because of my grandpa, "Daddy Bowman." He was the best grandpa a girl could ever have. Not to mention he was the best cobbler in all of Quincy, Florida. He knew how to take old shoes and make them look brand-spanking new. If anyone could save an old shoe, "Daddy Bowman" could.
You see, what made grandpa so special was that he took the time to love and teach me valuable lessons like, "Mind your manners gal", "Say your prayers before you get in that bed", "Look people in the eye when they are talking to you," and my old time favorite, "Gal you can be anything you want to be." Those miniature lessons stuck to me like glue.
I met this 6'1, sharply dressed, smooth chocolate skinned, and slender gentleman at the mere age of 5 years old. Mama packed my sister Ericka and me up in Connecticut, and moved us to the Panhandle in Quincy, Florida. She left daddy because she said that they just couldn't see eye to eye. I didn't understand what that meant. I just knew that I was leaving my Nana Alice behind in Connecticut. Nana Alice was sweet as pie. I waved at Nana as we boarded the Greyhound bus. I could feel the tears sweltering up in my eyes. I just bit my lip because I didn't want Mama to feel even sadder.
It seemed like the bus trip took forever. When we left Connecticut, it was cold and pitch dark, and when we arrived in Florida, it was darker than a thousand midnights. When we arrived at the bus station, who should be standing there to greet us? It was grandpa, "Daddy Bowman." I was a little hesitant at first, because in my eyes grandpa looked like a giant compared to little ole' me.
I knew grandpa was a caring and compassionate man, because as soon as we hopped into his shiny green Chevy, he headed to a local restaurant. He instructed Mama, my sister, and me, to order whatever we wanted. Grandpa must've read my mind. I sure was hungry because the sandwiches and drinks Nana packed for us were demolished within hours. I didn't want to complain to Mama, being that she had used her savings to get us to Florida. The sadness I once felt about having to leave Connecticut soon disappeared, and I could tell that everything was going to be ALL RIGHT!
We finally arrived at my grandparents' home on Fourth Street. Although it was an older wooden home, it was gigantic. The porch alone was almost larger than the one bedroom cramped apartment we left behind in Connecticut. I had already designated an area on the porch where I could turn cartwheels without hitting any of the green rocking chairs, which were neatly arranged on the porch.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Fourth Street by Anastasia Means-Dallas Copyright © 2012 by Anastasia Means-Dallas. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
