Thomas Jefferson's Monologue

Not too long after Jefferson had passed on, Miss Emma’s illness grew worse. My aunt had visited her daily, but I hadn’t had time to visit since I was struggling to teach all of the necessary material before the school year was over.
Unfortunately, I heard news that she had passed away earlier this morning from some of my students. The funeral for her was next Sunday and they needed donations to pay for it.
Estelle, Jefferson’s cousin, brought around a small metal bucket, and her siblings did the same.
“Could you spare some change, Ms.Wiggins?” she asks, pushing the bucket towards me as she made puppy eyes.
I reached into my pockets to see what change I had. I pulled out about two dollars worth of change and dropped them into her bucket,

Then, all of us men took shovels and covered the casket with dirt. A wooden cross with her name carved in it stood tall and proud above where the hole was dug.
I looked to my right, where Jefferson’s grave was. Little patches of yellow-green grass had already began growing there, along with a single dandelion weed. Somehow, I felt like that weed represented Jefferson being able to fulfill Miss Emma’s wish. A wish that didn’t need to be satisfied, but was anyways.
Vivian walks by, a hand on my shoulder. She wore a simple, sleeveless black dress that went to her knees, and had her hair up in a bun. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and her black mascara had ran down her cheeks. Even after crying so much, she still looked beautiful. She also carried a small bouquet of white lilies with her.
“Do you want to go somewhere? To talk maybe?” she asked, placing down the flowers.
I nodded, and we began strolling into who knows where. The sky was blue and clear, not a cloud in the sky. I didn’t think that suited the occasion. I could see black field workers in the distance, repeating the same old routine everyday. Would things ever change for our people? I doubt it. We’ve never changed. We never