I was playing with them, actually playing with them. They were just like Dad’s rug, but my size, and alive! I cuddled in their soft black fur. Their padded leather paws threw me and I fell, laughing. We rolled into each other and onto each other. And their big round eyes looked at me, comfortingly. They felt the same way towards me as I felt towards them. Their claws gently played with and tangled my long brown, curly hair. “Ann, Ann! Where are you hiding this time!?” I gave each of them a big hug, which they returned with licks that filled my whole face. “Ann, Ann! Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Where could such a small three-year-old girl be hiding? “Here I am, Daddy.” Where was that from? Oh, from over there, all the way across the valley, right outside the big forest. I ran to her as she ran to me. She gave me the biggest hug she could. “Where have you been?” “Oh, Daddy, it was so much fun. I was playing with black furry animals, like your coat and rug.” “Wow!” I said, laughing. “You’ve got a great imagination. Well, Daddy’s going hunting and he wants you to go with him, do you want to?” I asked her for the first time. Her face lit up brighter than the sun. I was playing with them, actually playing with them “Really, can I?” “Yes, this time you can.” She was unaware of what hunting really was, but she knew I did it for a living, and it had to do with animals, that she then could keep forever. * * * The clear, blue sky slowly shifted into green and yellow leaves. The long valley changed to brown evergreen trunks. I hadn’t ever been in the woods except this morning when I went a few feet into its shadowy depths. I was a little frightened so I clung to Daddy’s legs. But he acted very different. He was calm and blended in with the trees. I did anything but that. I was like a baby bird struggling to get the first worm from its mother. Suddenly Daddy froze. I froze as well. He tiptoed lightly off the path and into the dense forest. I stayed frozen from fright, unable to move. I saw Daddy’s head tilt cautiously from behind the tree trunk. His hand gestured for me to come. My young girl stalked towards me, her eyes open like two full moons. We walked a little further into the forest. I could hear something very distinct. It was a buzz accompanied by scratching and patting. I stopped and cleared away the branches of an overgrown shrub. I saw a big mother bear picking out the honey from a bumblebee’s nest. Quietly, I lifted Ann so she could see the big animal. I set her down, while raising my rifle to eye level. Slowly, I pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and Ann fell over into the mud. “Daddy, what was that about?” “Come,” I said. * * * What had happened? I wanted to see the big beautiful animal more. But obviously the loud noise had scared it away. “Come,” he said again. Then he walked through the shrubbery. I followed. Without looking around I said, “I want to see it again.” All he said back was, “Look.” I raised my head to see the bear lying there with its eyes closed. One small part of its thick black hair had turned slightly red. “Did it fall asleep?” “Of course it did.” The bees were still humming around their broken-up nest. The bear still had honey around its mouth. Daddy ran up to the bear. “Won’t you wake it?” I whispered. “Of course,” he said, “I forgot.” I wish I could just tell her the truth, but I couldn’t, she wouldn’t understand. “Do you remember how to get back home?” I said to her. “Yeah, Daddy, you just follow the path back until you see the house.” “Well why don’t you go back, I’ll be here awhile, to see if the bear gets up.” “Can I stay with you?” My mind was racing my words, but losing. “It’s getting late. I think you should go back.” “OK, fine.” * * * I started walking back, but turned behind a pine tree to wait and see what Daddy was really doing. I could still hear him even over the sweet songs of the birds and the chirping metronome of the crickets. My eyes closed and I was lulled to sleep. Taking such a young girl hunting with me was not such an easy feat. She had too many questions that she would regret asking and I would regret telling. I was almost done carrying the bear on the new but old-looking sled that I had made out of old sticks from the forest. The sled was brittle and I would probably burn it in tonight’s fire. I couldn’t wait to give Ann the stuffed bear for her fourth birthday. I reached the valley that was glazed by the full moon. Now I could see our house that was just across the valley. The heavy sleigh jerked across the dry grass, and before I knew it, I was home. I crept inside, past Granny who was sleeping in her old wooden rocker with her knitting in her lap, past our room where I could hear Janet, my wife, snoring, till I came to Ann’s room where I quietly opened the door to look into the darkness. Faintly, in the murky light I could see her bed, with no one in it! * * * I woke up to the hooting of an owl. The crickets were still chirping and I could feel the warm breath of an animal. I looked to the side to see one of the bears I played with that morning. I looked away to see the two other bears on
May/June 2002
This Is the Life
“Brandon! Brandon, can you weed the flower bed in the front yard?” Mom called from the kitchen. I let out a groan. “Aw, Mom, please don’t make me! I had to go with Dad to the store in that stupid backfiring car. Can’t I rest a little?” “But it looks sloppy, and Mrs. Kelly is coming over for coffee and a chat this evening,” my mom pleaded. “Can’t Chris?” I asked in my most faked tired voice. “Brandon Newton, you are the most self-centered boy in the world! You know just as much as I do that your older brother is doing college homework. Now you get out there, and do what I tell you!” “All right!” I cried out angrily, bouncing out of the soft leather couch. In a fuming rage, I slammed doors and yelled at my sister. To make matters worse, when I grabbed the hoe I scraped the side of the car. This only added to my anger because I knew my dad was not going to let me off easy. My anger began to lose its steam as I pulled weeds and stacked them into piles. After a few minutes, I felt better. I surveyed my work with pride. Since I had learned to walk, there had always been something inviting about warm, soft earth. Even though I was nearly thirteen, I dropped the hoe and sprawled myself onto the ground being careful not to damage my mom’s tulips. I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. Gosh, I thought. Wish I’d lived in the old days; then I wouldn’t have to wash cars or weed gardens. Well, at least not wash cars or have to ride in ones that backfire. I grinned sleepily. That ride was such a joke! I started to laugh. Since I had learned to walk, there had always been something inviting about warm, soft earth “Hey! What are you laughing at? Get up. Mother wants us to weed the potato patch with Sarah.” “Eh . . . what?” I mumbled in disbelief, staggering to my feet. Potato patch? Where in the name of sense did a potato patch spring up in the middle of town? Then I looked around in bewilderment. Where was I? What had happened? Everything seemed vaguely familiar, only where were the cars, sidewalks, and manicured lawns? Instead, there was a large farmhouse and a barn with two draft horses tied out in front. My older brother Chris stood in front of me. “Come on. Mother wants us to weed the potato patch.” “All right, Chris,” I mumbled, picking up what I supposed to be my baseball cap. Instead, I stared in disbelief at a floppy felt hat like the type you would see in an old Hollywood western. “Come on. Quit gawking and get to work!” Chris growled, pulling me around the barn and shoving me in the direction of a field. “Here, take this and start weeding,” he ordered, handing me a hoe. In a daze, I began to work the hoe and dig weeds out of the moist earth. “Let’s see who can weed the most,” my little sister Sarah suggested. In disbelief I stared at her. Her sturdy little legs stuck out of a faded blue dress, and a white sunbonnet dangled from her neck. It was then that I noticed Chris wore boots that went up to his knees, brown pants, and a coarse cotton shirt. I, also, was dressed like him, only I wore a faded red shirt and suspenders. What’s happened? What’s wrong? I cried to myself. Everything is so different! For the next two hours, I worked my way down the rows of the patch. Soon my hands blistered, and my back ached from bending over. The hot sun beat down, making me think I was the most ill-treated boy in the universe. My hands smarted. I was never so glad to hear the dinner bell in my life. We all trooped into the house. I was startled. The house was changed like everything else. There was no dishwasher or freezer but nothing seemed unusual to the rest of my family. I began to get scared. Was the life with cars, freezers, and dishwashers all a dream? Was this a dream? Would I ever wake up? Would I have to do work like this all my life? My dad’s voice interrupted me. “After dinner, Chris, you and Sarah go and keep weeding the patch. Brandon, you can clean the wagon because tomorrow I’ll be heading into town, and it squeaks something fierce.” For a split second my heart leaped when I heard I wouldn’t have to weed potatoes. It fell, though, when I heard I would have to clean the wagon. I had never done it, but something inside told me it was no easy job. “OK, Father,” I answered. Then I wondered why I had called him Father. I glanced at him, but nothing seemed amiss. Strange, I thought. I had called him Dad forever, and now something possessed me to call him Father. He didn’t even bat an eyelid. After dinner, I set to work cleaning and oiling the wagon. The axle grease smelled awful, but I smeared it on without trying to look disgusted. I cleaned the rust off the springs of the seat and wondered why Dad just didn’t go and buy a car. It would be a lot easier to wash, I thought, forgetting I had once thought it would be fun to live in the old days when there would be no cars to wash. When I finished, I looked with pride at the wagon. “Not bad, son,” Dad remarked, coming up behind me. “Ride over to the Gilberts on Bess and get that new saw blade he promised me.” “Yes, sir,” I answered. As I saddled Bess, I wondered that I knew how to saddle a horse since the only ones I had ever ridden were at the county fair.
Lost Friendship
Whenever I see Joanne, I always notice the red scar on her beautiful long legs. Although it was just a small scar, it seemed so noticeable on her feminine and beautiful legs. Joanne is the prettiest girl in my class. She has deep chestnut hair that she can flick about her face and shining crystal eyes glittering behind her little spectacles. We had been the best of friends, until one day . . . It was my ninth birthday then. I threw a big party and invited tons of friends for a grand celebration at my house. I, of course, had not forgotten about Joanne. She was specially appointed as the clown of the show because of her comical face and humorous jokes which always bring us tears of laughter and leave us many happy memories. That day, she dressed up in a big clown costume and had colorful makeup blotched all over her face. She looked messy but funny at the same time. We watched her perform the magic tricks, and burst out laughing at her pretended clumsiness. After that, we played all sorts of games and enjoyed ourselves tremendously. The only time I felt a bit sad was when they reluctantly left one by one and could not sleep over at my house. Soon, there was only Joanne there to accompany me. I brought her into my bedroom and showed her the wonderful presents I got from my parents. All too fast, it was time for her to leave. I had to bid her a gloomy good-bye as her car slowly disappeared into the streets. I threw a big party and invited tons of friends for a grand celebration at my house The next morning, I was awakened by the mind-bursting yells from my infuriated mother. “Where’s the watch I bought for your birthday? Do you know how expensive it is? And you just lost it like that? Your father and I saved every penny to . . .” “Yeah, yeah, can you stop shouting and making such a big fuss? It’s just in the drawer of my desk!” I murmured drowsily with eyes half open. “I’ve looked, it isn’t there!” my mother barked at me. Her news hit me with a pang as I jumped out of my cozy bed and ran helter-skelter toward the desk. “It can’t be!” I remembered so vividly that I had put it . . . “Oh no, it’s gone!” My heart sank like a deflated balloon as I tried to recall where on earth I had put my precious watch. Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, a name that I refused to think of at the moment flashed across my mind. “No, not Jo, it can’t be her!” I tried to convince myself but had to face the bald fact. She was the only one who entered my bedroom the night before and also the first one to see my watch. I remembered her face green with envy as I showed it to her. She must have wanted it so much that she couldn’t help taking it. No, stealing it. I felt the rebellion and fury at this thought and called Joanne to come at once. I dressed quickly and ate my breakfast. At about eight in the morning, I heard the doorbell ring. Joanne was standing on the porch. She waved happily to me as if nothing happened. I glared at her in a fierce, smoldering way and she was intimidated by my coldness. I approached her and blared, “Give me back my watch, you thief!” “Huh? What?” “Stop acting as if you’re innocent!” “I didn’t take it!” “Yes you did, you stole it!” “I really didn’t take it!” “Oh, so you want to deny it!” “Please, I don’t have it!” “Right!” I felt my face going as hot as fire. Without thinking, I took the crystal photo frame she gave me yesterday with the photo of us in it and smashed it hard onto the floor. Broken pieces of crystal and splinters fired off in all directions. I heard a small scream from Joanne but I chose to ignore it and stomped back into my bedroom. I slammed my bedroom door shut and threw myself onto the bed. “I hope it hurts, she deserved it!” I muttered angrily under my breath. Then, I felt tears prickling behind my eyes, before I knew it, they flowed fast and free down my cheeks like scattered pearls. I impatiently wiped them away with my hand and closed my eyes. I’m supposed to be the victim but why am I crying? The next day in school, I told everyone who would listen to me that Joanne had stolen my watch. At first nobody believed me, but they began to see the “true colors” of Joanne as I told them my evidence along with the details. Then, the news about “Joanne the thief” spread far and wide. Joanne, of course, was a total disgrace. No one talked to her the whole day in school. I was happy to have my other good friends surrounding me during the break, listening to my explanation of how I found out that Joanne was a stealer. I was certainly delighted to see Joanne being left out of the conversation, feeling sad and miserable. So week after week I had not spoken a word to Joanne and, when the weeks turned to months, Joanne had made a few friends (who doubted what I said about her) and I started hanging around with a new group of friends. I was enjoying myself so much with my new group of friends that I hardly noticed her. But one afternoon, when I came home from school, I plopped my school bag down beside my bed as I watched my favorite TV show. After that, I decided to finish my homework first before I went roller-skating with my friends. As I took out my books, something shiny under my bed
