Annabelle strolls the grounds of Old Salem and Salem College feeling empowered to face her past while envisioning her future. Stopping by St. Philip’s Moravian Church, she enters the museum and looks down through the glass floor to see a choir of raised, red clay, earthen graves – Annabelle’s research revealed the Moravian tradition is to bury their deceased according to his or her church choir, brothers or sisters. She wonders how many of her ancestors might be buried below where she is standing. The thought spooks her a little, and she quickly exits the church and begins walking briskly up the cobblestone walk along Church Street. Stopping at Salem College’s Main Hall, she sits down on the steps outside to check her text messages. Nothing from Conrad. She waits, she ponders: My people were once black and beautiful, even darker than Conrad. But now, in this foreign place, we’re colored in shades of blackness and degrees of separation and no longer know who all of our kinfolks are, ranked and penalized by race and gender, to be even further divided and oppressed…
Looking out over the neatly manicured lawn of Town Square, its two diagonal walking paths intersecting in the middle to form a cross, Annabelle fastens her gaze beyond, toward the watering post at the furthest corner. She glimpses a horse drawn carriage filled with laughing, visiting school children on a field trip, then sees two workers dressed in authentic 18th Century attire – ruffled long-sleeved blouses, granny skirts and bonnets – bustling up Main Street to their 4:00 shifts at Winkler’s Bakery.
It is 3:50pm, she has time to visit God’s Acre where Home Moravian Church’s deceased White members repose. She takes a short walk to the cemetery to search for the graves of Conrads, Lashes, and Wilsons. Stopping at a Wilson grave, 1813 – 1883, she discerns the sweet fragrance of Moravian Cookies baking…
That’s it, she concludes, Winkler Bakery was established in 1807! Aunt Annie was born in the 1830’s! Finally, rest in peace, Daddy!
Annabelle closes her eyes, inhaling deeply: Smells just like the ginger snaps Aunt Annie used to bake, she laughs.
It’s 4:00. Conrad texts: where r u
Annabelle replies: god’s acre. coming 2 u!
***