A Birthday Story

I had not planned on adding another story to my blogsite so soon after Tea Time, but something got in my way. . . old age! In spite of my years, I’ve had the good fortune to have escaped the usual stiffness and pain that so often accompanies the body on its way to, you know where. Because I neglected to take my usual amount of Glucosomine/Chrondroitin last week and overdid things a bit last Friday, I went from feeling like a young “fifty-five ” to feeling like an advanced “ninety-five” practically overnight. And that’s my alloted amount of old age carping for the week. 

     Over the past two or three days I accumulated a few news articles and editoral comments which I planned on analyzing and using as a base for an assessment against, say, ten years or so ago. Alas, that will have to wait. instead, I am coping out. I have always freely admitted that I am not a “born again” fiction writer, and I have never so much as thought of sending any of my work to a publisher in hopes of it being accepted. Because I have never experienced rejection, it follows that I’ve never had to recover from a prolonged period of dejection brought on by  my premature hopes of election to fame and fortune. I remember telling my children bedtime stories. . . not as many as I wish I had told them . . . but this is my first children’s story, a little birthday story I wrote for granddaughter Joie some years back.

This is a story about a little girl named Lyndy and her younger brother Mickie who lived in a pretty white house in the country with their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Rolli. Lyndy, whose real name was JoLynda, was ten years old when she went to bed the night before this story begins. Mickie, whose real name was Michael, was nine years old and Lyndy’s best friend. When Lyndy woke the next morning she was eleven years old because it was her birthday. Before Mother Rolli had a chance to call her for breakfast, Lyndy was out of bed and dressed. Birthdays always meant presents and every little girl looks forward to her special day. She ran across the hall and knocked on her brother’s bedroom door to tell him it was time to get up.  Mickie, was already up and dressed. Together, they ran down to the kitchen where Mother Rolli was dishing up a huge platter of pancakes and Father Rolli was already sitting at the table. 
     “Breakfast’s ready. Happy Birthday Lyndy. Morning Mickie,” greeted Father Rolli. Both Lyndy and Mickie quickly ran to their chairs hoping their father would not take too much time drinking his second cup of coffee because birthday presents were never given out until after breakfast. It was Lyndy’s birthday, but Mickie knew there would be something nice for him, too.
     “Who can that be knocking on the door this early in the morning? It’s only six-thirty. Perhaps one of the neighbors need help,” Mother Rolli murmured. Lyndy and Mickie both started to get up, but their mother wagged a finger, meaning, no. “I’ll go see who it is,” and she opened the door. It was their good neighbor, Mr. Kaufman who lived just over the hill and who raised all kinds of garden vegetables which he sold in a large nearby Farmer’s Market . 

     “Well, for goodness sake’s,” Mrs. Rolli exclaimed. ”Carl, what brings you over here this early in the morning. Nothing wrong I hope. Do come in.” Mr. Kaufman smiled, which meant nothing was wrong and entered the cozy kitchen.
     Father Rolli called from the table, “Welcome neighbor. Good to see you. Come in. Sit down and share breakfast. Plenty of ham, eggs, pancakes and coffee on the back burner.” Mr. Rolli, knowing his neighbor Mr. Kaufman usually took his time with words, did not ask him why he came visiting.

     “Mighty kind of you,” Farmer Kaufman said and beamed his thanks to his host and hostess. He ruffled Mickie’s hair and grinned over at Lyndy as he pulled a chair up to the table. He was not really their uncle, but they called him Uncle Carl.
“And how is Mary?” Mother Rolli asked. She knew her friend Mary was usually far too busy for morning visits.
     “Mary’s fine. A little rheumatism in the joints here and there but nothing more than most of us get at our age,” and Mr. Kaufman accepted the platter of ham, eggs and pancakes set before him. Most farm folks don’t talk much over breakfast, so there was little conversation. That didn’t mean that the Rolli’s weren’t eager to know why their neighbor had visited so early in the morning. They knew he would tell them as soon as his plate was empty, and had had his first sip of hot coffee.
     During breakfast, Lyndy noticed every time Farmer Kaufman glanced in her direction, he appeared to have a special twinkle in his eye. That made her wonder if his visit had something to do with her birthday. She sat as quietly as she could but could hardly wait for breakfast to be over. She knew she would be excused to leave if she asked, but that twinkle meant something nice was going to happen and she wanted to know what it was.
     Finally, Farmer Kaufman eased back his chair a bit, took a sip of coffee and smiled a broad smile. He looked over at Lyndy. “Last night,” he began, “my old mare, Winkie, gave birth to a little filly. She was having a bit of a hard time bringing her baby into the world, so I called Doctor Boyer. He’s an excellent vet and good with horses. Winkie’s all right now, but the vet says she’s too old to make enough milk to feed her baby. Anyway, it’s about time I find me a younger horse for working my vegetable farm. Think there’s someone here who might like to raise a foal? I just plain don’t have the time.”
     Lyndy almost tipped her chair over backwards in her excitement. “Uncle Carl, you mean me, don’t you?” She raced around the table and threw her arms about him. “I’d take such good care of her. Can we go see her now?”
“Well, now, that depends on your mother and daddy, don’t you think?”
Lyndy didn’t have to ask. Her parents smiles were as bright as her own.
Farmer Kaufman continued, “Now of course the baby will still need its mother, so you’d have to take care of them both. That shouldn’t be too much trouble with a big fellow like Mickie to help,” and Farmer Kaufman smiled a big smile at Lyndy’s younger brother. “Winkie may be getting old, but she still has several years ahead of her and she is gentle with children. The two of you could ride her while the foal is growing up.”
     By this time, both children had their arms about Farmer Kaufman’s neck almost choking him with their delight. “Oh, Daddy, let’s go over now to see them,” pleaded Lyndy.
     “Why not go outside and see them now,” Farmer Kaufman said with a wide grin.
     “Here? Now?” both children almost shouted.
     “Yes, here and now,” and Farmer Kaufman rose from his chair. “I brought the two of them over in my old cattle truck `cause I kinda had an idea Winkie and her baby would find a good home and lots of love right here. I have some special nursing bottles Doctor Boyer gave me for the foal. He told me just how to prepare cow’s milk and how much to feed her. Might as well get started right now,” and he headed for the kitchen door followed by two excited children and their delighted parents.
     Mr. Kaufman’s roomy cattle truck was sitting under a large shady tree close by the kitchen door. Lyndy, in her hurry to see the foal, ran to the back of the truck. Winkie, a beautiful bay mare with a black wavy mane and long black tail, stretched her neck over the tailgate and nickered a welcome. “Oh, Winkie, we’ll take good care of you and your baby. Really, we will,” and the happy little girl turned and ran back to Farmer Kaufman and gave him a big hug of thanks.
“Don’t you think we had better get Winkie and her baby out of the truck and find a place for them in the barn.” Father Rolli interrupted. “Your Uncle Carl probably has lots to do at home and we have to find out how to mix the foal’s formula and what kind of grain Winkie is accustomed to eating. Come, we have work to do,” and Mr. Rolli grinned his thanks at his good neighbor. “This is a mighty generous thing you are doing.”
     “Not at all,” Mr. Kaufman replied. “I’ve been thinking for some time that Winkie was getting too old to do everything that needs to be done about the place, and yet she is too young for retirement to some pasture. Course, I didn’t plan on that Arab stallion breaking loose from the Donaldson’s barn and vising Winkie last Spring, but, things seem to be working out just fine.” With that, Mr. Kaufman let down the truck’s tailgate and pulled out the ramp so that Winkie and her new baby could leave the trailer and be led to their new home.
     “Oh, how beautiful she is,” Lyndy almost cried in her excitement. Winkie’s new foal was the color of a bright copper penny. “I’m going to call her Penny. My very own, Birthday Penny,” and Lyndy put her arms around the little foal and gave her a big hug. “Oh thank you Uncle Carl. I’ll take ever such good care of her. Really, really I will.”
     Mickie, feeling quite grown up, took the rope attached to Winkie’s halter and led her toward a small barn that had, once before, housed a carriage horse. The new mother whinnied to her baby to follow and looked back to make sure she was being obeyed. A wobbly Penny answered with a little nicker and hungrily nuzzled Winkie’s side. A few minutes later Winkie and her foal were in their new home and Lyndy and Mickie were paying close attentions to Farmer Kaufman’s careful instructions on how to care for their new responsibilities.
     “What a wonderful birthday this has been,” Lyndy said to Father and Mother Rolli before going to bed that night. “Wasn’t it wonderful of Uncle Carl?”
     “Yes, Lyndy, it certainly was,” replied Father Rolli. “but don’t forget to also thank your Aunt Mary. Winkie was her special horse and she often used her to drive into town for groceries and to visit friends. She must have a great deal of faith in the two of you to intrust her beloved Winkie to your care. Now time to go to bed. Beginning tomorrow, you are going to be a very busy little girl.”
     “I’ll be a busy girl but I’m not a little girl any more. Little girls play with dolls. I’m going to raise and own my very own horse. Goodnight Daddy. Goodnight Mommy.” Lyndy kissed her parents and went off to bed. A few minutes later she was back down in her nightgown. “If I’m grown up enough to own my very own foal, I think I’m old enough to be called JoLynda, don’t you?”
     “And if I’m old enough to take care of Winkie, I’m old enough to be called Michael,” came a determined voice from the top of the stairs.
    “You are indeed,” responded both Father and Mother Rolli.
     “Michael, JoLynda, it’s time you were both in bed. Scat,” Mother Rolli scolded, pretending to be annoyed, but then laughed and added, “I think if you are grown up that much, you are grown up enough to join your father and me in the kitchen for another slice of birthday cake and a glass of milk.” JoLynda and Michael did not need a second invitation.
“Just don’t forget to brush your teeth afterwards,” added Father Rolli.
“We won’t,” promised both children.
     “I wish every body who had a birthday today had as wonderful a birthday as mine,” sighed a happy JoLynda as her parents kissed the children goodnight. “Come on Michael,” said JoLynda. “Winkie and Penny will need us in the morning. Let’s go to bed.”