Before I go any further with my documentation, my journal. I have to tell you that these are all memories. My mother had her story written out in one 1000+ pages. Her life was written for ten years, basically it went by my birthday. I felt that the readers of my mother's story should know how her little Wade felt. Even though Margaret Mitchell did a pretty good job at understanding me. She probably had a little boy herself. So without further ado I will go by my memories. Some of them will be choppy. Some will be very detailed, but these are exactly how I remember them.
As we rode farther away from where Rhett had left mother, my fear began to lessen only because I was focused on my hunger. Mother kept on saying we were going to Tara. I remember her talking about it from time to time. I'd guess it was her favorite place. She kept on saying:
"You remember Wade. You were so little the last time you will there. Don't worry, mother will take care of us. Mother will be there to help." My response wasn't exactly what she wanted because she seemed to look distraught when I responded with "I'm hungry." But I couldn't help myself. My hunger was gnawing at my stomach. I remember the pain of it. The thought of food all the time. Aunt Melly was asleep, but when she woke up she would ask for some water.
I don't know why I remember this one scene. I think it was because it was the first time I saw Mother ever taken control of a situation. Of doing something for herself. It wasn't that big of a deal, but it was something different for my eyes. My mother was tying a cow to the wagon. The cow scared me a bit. It was so big and mooing. As I got older I remember that time period and always wondered if mother would have made me tie the cow to the wagon if I was older. The only thought was that of course she would. That's exactly what a mother is supposed to do.
We got to the end of the road. It was so dark that when Mother asked me to get out. I grabbed her. I wanted to cling to her skirts as we walked up the road. I couldn't help it. She became my true source of comfort. Now that Uncle Rhett was gone. I remember looking up at the house and wished Uncle Rhett was on the porch so I could lay in his arms. It would have been fine if Mother had held me, but I didn't think she would. She only did that when it was truly necessary. There were enough people to get me to sleep, not just her. She knew that Prissy could do it as well as anyone.