Matilda Smith Medford Massey, May 1875: What a difference five years makes in the life of a woman. I was so depressed after I lost my son that I vowed I’d never write in this journal again. I still remember the feel of his tiny body. Rayford left me for one of his women—who knows which one. To tell the truth, I was relieved to have him out of my life, but I have to admit that he did have the decency to leave the area and move to Maine. The kids and I moved in with Henry and his wife, poor Pansy, who died the next year. We decided to go back home to Vicksburg and see if we still had rights to our land. We did, and the house was still standing. As I stood there looking at the place, the yard in shambles, Mama’s rosebushes hidden by weeds, tears ran down my face. We had a house, but the home we’d grown up in wasn’t there. That might not make sense, but it’s the way I felt. No matter, we were glad to find it still there and know that it belonged to us. There was no furniture left, so we slept on the floor for a week until we could get some ticking sewn into mattresses and stuffed with hay. Tears turned into joy with each tiny step forward we took. I’ll never forget that first night that we went to sleep on something other than the hard floor. I thought I could never be happier than that moment, but I was so wrong. This journal and a trunk full of our clothing is all we brought to our old plantation with us. I almost left the journal behind because I didn’t want to read any more about Mama’s heartbreaks, but I just couldn’t.

We could not farm the whole plantation, but Henry had enough money saved that we could hire a few hands, and we had a pretty decent, even if small, cotton crop. I was so proud when we brought it all in and had made a good profit. Henry had sworn he’d never come home to the South, but we both needed a change, and we got it. Henry remarried to a woman who’s a little older than him. She grounds him and is an excellent manager, and I remarried a wonderful man with the farm next to ours. My third child was born in March, and I’m so happy. Money can’t buy happiness. Only love can do that. Jenny is now nine years old, Samuel is seven, and the new little girl, Lily, is healthy. God has given me a second chance. I’m so grateful.

“Did Grandma name you Lily after that little girl?” Holly asked.

“I believe she did.” Lily vaguely remembered her mother telling her that she was named for an old ancestor.