The world is out there for you to discover on your own. There are wolves, yes, but there are also pastures full of spring grass and the chance that you will find a flock of your own.
It is your life and I can’t walk beside you. Think of what you’ve learned. Be careful, but do not forget to live. Be strong and be kind. Don’t be afraid to lose your heart.
I will come when you need me. When you need a place to lick your wounds and rest, you are welcome home. But it is time and you must go.
Please go now, before I lose my courage.
I wanted her to notice me. To see me for the first time and perhaps recognize that I was present. But in her world, I was less than a shadow. Less that the light breeze that teased her hair with the prospect of flight…of freedom.
It is, I suppose, my nature to imagine conversations between people that I can see, but can’t hear. And so…
Miss Susan: I want the musicians over here, near the hay. I also want the benches around the walls. You will also need to move the corn grinder out behind the barn.
Mr. Carr: Yes’m.
Miss Susan: And Mr. Carr, I hold you personally responsible to see that the fiddle player has no liquor tonight. I will not have him dancing a jig in his union suit as we did last month.
Mr. Carr: Yes’m!
Miss Susan: Not a single drop, Mr. Carr. If I smell any liquor on that man, you won’t see a single pie the rest of the summer.
Mr. Carr: But…
Miss Susan: Not a drop!
Mr. Carr: Yes’m.
In the silence…
The clock ticks on, without tiring, like the metronome to the tune of my life. Tick Tick Tick. A constant, dull beat.
I can hear the creak of my chair as I rock back and forth, sewing the button holes on my new dress.
An errant mouse scurries beneath the bed in the next room. Oblivious to the activity below, the cat sleeps quietly on the bed.
The kettle on the old wood stove steams away, letting me know the temperature of the oven by the sound of its whistling breath.
The house is quiet and in this moment, I can hear myself think. Good thoughts. Memories past and plans for the future.
The silence is good. It calms me and fortifies me for the day ahead. If I could, I would stay here…in this moment…in the silence.
Play me a song, she said.
I want to dance.
Daddy’s not here,
so let’s hear some jazz.
You know what I like.
The one with the horns.
Myrtle really has only a single dream…to be tall. Certainly to be taller than the grass. Just think what it would be like to look around and see the world that surrounds you. Right now, Myrtle can only see the green stalks of grass, the bugs that live on the grass, and an occasional mouse. If she strains her neck and looks up, she can see the sky with it's clouds and occasional bird.
Myrtle wants more. She wants to be able to see what ever it is that she can hear. Loud noises come from beyond the grass. What could make sounds that loud?
How tall would she need to be? Tall as the tree tops that tease her over the grass? Maybe the trees are just bigger grass? Could there be some other bigger cow looking down at her like she is a mouse in the grass. Myrtle involuntarily looked up at the thought of a giant cow. She didn't want to be stepped on.
To be tall…that is all that Myrtle wants. It's taking forever. She's already three weeks old and still not tall.
Myrtle dreams of being tall. That's all she can do for now.