Chapter Two

                          Chapter Two

John and Eula lived in an L-shaped house with one room upstairs. The living room had a big, river-rock fireplace. When it was cold outside, I would stand in front of it, pull my dress up in the back and warm my buns. Then, I would turn and face the fireplace, pulling my dress up in front as high as was respectable.

In the middle of the kitchen floor was a door which opened to a room below called the root cellar. It was terribly dark and damp, but the only place we had to store our perishable supplies. Bushels of cabbage, carrots, onions, potatoes, and pie plant; or more commonly known, rhubarb filled the ebony tomb.

I have so many memories of living with John and Eula. One of my favorites was when Eula made sauerkraut in a huge wooden barrel. Inside the barrel went the entire head of many cabbages and seasoning. The smell was pungent, and if I hadn’t loved sauerkraut so much would have pinched my nose. Instead, I stood as close as I could and took deep breaths.

When Eula removed the sauerkraut out of the barrel, if she found a core, it became mine. What a treat!

So many memories …

Beside our front yard gate stood an Alberta peach tree and hidden deep in the branches was a cat bird which made ‘cat noises’, to protect her new babies.

The spring-fed creek below our house, had water-cress so thick it looked like a lush green carpet.  Camouflaged in the leaves of the water-cress were many spring-peepers. I loved to lie quietly along the bank and watch and listen.

They were just little frogs, but their loud voices made them seem so big to me. I just couldn’t believe so much noise could come out of something as small as my thumb nail.

Every shallow pool along the creek was filled with interesting things. I watched curiously, as polliwogs shed their little tails. Soon feet and legs replaced the tails, turning the polliwogs into noisy frogs.

The sky was alive with many birds, different colors, different songs; Bluebirds, Sparrows, Robins, and Jenny Wrens were all beautiful to me. The Bluebirds and Jenny Wrens made homes in hollow fence posts.

A Jenny Wren would and could make a nest in anything she could get her tiny body into. One time, Eula left a pair of John’s overalls out on the clothes line all night. Before she got them in the house the next day, the wrens had staked out their claim and build a nest.

Because John knew how much I loved all the birds, he often teased me about them. One day he told me to sprinkle salt on the tail of a red bird. He assured me, if I got any salt on the tail, I could catch it and the bird would forever be mine. I chased the poor little red bird all over the yard with a salt shaker in my hand, trying to sprinkle even one drop on its’ tail. Needless to say, I never caught the bird.

On our front porch was a swing John had made out of hickory and rawhide. In the evenings while the fire flies came out to play, we would sit and swing back and forth together.  John taught me a song as we sat there in the swing we sang the song over and over.

                                 ***

       The eastbound train was crowded, one cold December day.  The conductor shouted, “Tickets!” in his old time fashioned way.

A little girl sat in sadness, her hair was bright as gold … she said, “I have no ticket; and then her story she told.

“My Mother’s daily sewing, trying to earn our bread. And, our poor dear old blind father’s in prison- almost dead.  My brother and sister would both be very glad, if, I could only bring back my poor, dear old blind dad.”

The conductor could not answer; he could not make a reply.  His shaking rough hands wiping the tear drops from his eyes. He said, “God bless you little one, just stay right where you are. You’ll never need a ticket while I am on this car.”

                                   *

It was while I lived with John and Eula that my daddy began to come visit me. He would ride over on a horse named “Ribbon.” She was a bay saddle mare, dark brown with black mane and tail. She was filled with spirit, as she pranced up the lane to our home. Daddy was indeed lucky to have such a fine mare, as most of the hill people had only work horses, mules or the use of farm wagons to get around with.

Every time daddy came, he brought me something.  Sometimes it was a box of raisins, other times, Teaberry gum or a sack of hard candy.I loved my daddy, but deep in my heart I loved John more.

                                  *

When I was three, I became sick with Typhoid fever. I don’t know how long I had the fever, but it must have been a long time as my hair fell out and I was so weak, when I wasn’t in bed, John had to carry me around. Thinking back, I’m surprised I lived, I was so ill.

Eula, dear sweet Eula, tried to make me feel better by making me a new dress. It was hand-sewn out of Pongee, a material real soft and crinkly. I thought the dress was beautiful. When I was well, I proudly put on my new garment. I was very careful when I wore it, not playing around in the dirt, or rolling across the grass, and always lifted the hem when I went down to the spring.  I guess I loved that dress almost as much as I loved John and Eula.

One day after the fever was gone; my daddy arrived and brought me a beautiful doll with a China head and arms. I sat on the front porch swing admiring my new doll while Daddy talked with John.

I knew from the stern look on John’s face this was serious man’s talk. After a spell, John looked at me, lowered his head and walked toward the spring. My daddy sat down beside me on the swing and broke the news. He was getting married. I cried and cried.

I sat there holding my pretty new doll, alone on the swing and watched Daddy as he rode away on ole Ribbon. Once he looked back at me and waved, but I didn’t wave at him, I just sat there wooden.

As soon as he was out of sight, I jumped down from the swing. I pulled my new doll by her feet through the dirt as I hurried behind the house. Her China head was cracked from hitting the ground, but I didn’t care. I hated my new doll! I grabbed her by the legs and raised her up high over my head. Then, with one swift motion, brought her crashing to the ground.

“Take that! Take that!” I cried out as her China head broke into tiny pieces, I dug a hole in the dirt beside the house and buried her. Even though I hated her, I felt she should have a proper burial.  After a few mumbled words, I picked up a hand-full of dirt and threw it on top of the grave. Then, I returned to the swing.

Adults sometime forget how easily souls of children are bruised, the pain as a heart weeps.