by Maya Angelou
The store was a microcosm of life; its orderlypattern was comfort, even among the meanest frustrations. But then came the intruders-first in the form of poorwhite childrenwho were bested only by grandmother's dignity. But as the awful,unfathomable mystery of prejudice intruded, so did the unexpected joy of surprise visit by Daddy, the sinful joy of going to Church, the disappointments of a depression Christmas.
