A Picture of Freedom: The Diary of Clotee a Slave Girl

The night before Mama was taken away, she gave me to Aunt ‘Tee and Uncle Heb. When Uncle Heb retells it, he say it was right after the Big Times – the first of the year. “Clotee is yours now. Take care of her, love her if you can,” she tol’ them.
I only got to see Mama, a few times after that – once when Wallace and Amelia come to Belmont and brought her ‘long to take care of their baby. ‘Then durin’ the Christmas holiday she got a pass to come visit. Each time she came, we laughed and talked, cried and held each other. She always waited ’til I fell asleep, then she’d leave.
When I woke up, Mama would be gone … just gone.
Five winters ago, a rider come to Belmont. Wasn’t long
“fore Mas’ Henley come to the kitchen with the news.
“Rissa is dead,” he said, his voice soundin’ flat like unleavened bread. Didn’t take long for the words to take hold. Mama was gone on to glory – just gone.