Papa tries

 

“Papa’s back!” Thomas yelled excitedly.

“I know” I replied.  

Thomas is my younger brother.  He is always full of energy, and loves to help papa with whatever he can on our pitiful little farm.  He is just six years old,  but he tries real hard to be like papa.  Whenever he sees papa going out to work on the land, his eyes light up with a pleasure no one understands.  Mama says he has wisdom beyond his years, and he truly believes that,  with his help, we will have more food on our table.  

Thomas darted out the door of our shabby, one room, home to greet him, yelling and waving  his arms.  I could hear him calling to Papa until his voice all but disappeared. Which means he ran all the way down the dirt path to ride back with Papa who was most likely still five minutes  from walking in the door.  Thomas had left the door open, and I stepped into the doorway and looked out.  

       It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing.  It is spring time now, but summer is well on its way.  Our farm looks lush and has a healthy green blanket of grass over every inch. Our potato, corn, and wheat fields are already beginning to sprout, which is unusual this early in the year.  Papa says we will have a good harvest this fall.  

Papa is a brilliant farmer.  He has been farming all his life and is very proud of his gift to farm the land.  He can smell the air and know if the storm that is coming will damage any crops if something isn’t done before hand to shield it, and in his dark brown eyes, you can sometimes even see the storm coming before it gets here.  Every now and then I  catch Mama watching Papa in the fields as though she is looking at him for the first time.  She watches him work, admiring the movement of his muscles as he rakes the soil or throws bundles of the crop he is harvesting into the farm cart, with the sweat making his body glisten in the sunlight.  Mama once told me that when the sun hits his dirty blonde hair just right, she sees him twenty years ago when they were just starting out.

I watched from the doorway as Thomas ran to Papa.   His tiny legs are very fast, and his dirty blonde, curly hair flopped against his head every time one of his feet pounded the earth.  When Papa saw Thomas coming, he yelled for the horses to stop and Papa reached down with his big rough hands to tenderly lift his little boy into his farm wagon with him.  Thomas sat beside him proudly, and the two of them started toward the house.

My other brother Joseph, who is 18, was out working the land already. Joseph was named after Papa.  Joseph is quite tall, and when he takes off his shirt, any girl within sight will turn her head and stare.  His muscles are very defined, and he almost looks like he was chiseled from stone.  From being in the sun all the time, he has a golden tan, but under that tan he is very light skinned.  Joseph’s jaw is square like Papa’s, and makes him look strong and serious all the time.  Only those closest to him know when he is joking and when he is serious.  His eyes are a deep brown that you can get lost in which I guess is why I can always tell him my dreams.  He never laughs at me or tells me I am foolish, and in his eyes I can see myself doing all that I dream of.

Thomas doesn’t like to help Joseph like he does Papa, because Joseph never takes the time to let Thomas help.  He  always worries that Thomas would hurt more than help, and slow him and Papa down.

Mama, my  two sisters Delaney, Taryn, and myself were all busy fixing our dinner. Delaney, although only 13, is quickly becoming a young woman. She is kind of short, but her long brown hair,  deep dimples, and unusual eyes that change color with the weather, dark brown when it is going to storm and amber when the sun is shining, have already grabbed the interest of a number of boys.  She is already pinching her cheeks to make them flood with color and fixing her hair whenever she thinks she might see one of them.  

Taryn is  six, she is Thomas’ twin sister.  She, like Thomas, has dirty blonde, curly hair. Papa says they got the curls from his Papa. She is very petite, and very shy around people she doesn’t know.  That is the only difference between her and Thomas when it comes to their behavior, because Thomas is very out going.  The two of them are usually inseparable until the time comes for us to begin our meals .  Otherwise Taryn will go right out in the fields to help, which Mama terribly disapproves of.  

“A girl has no place in them fields” is what Mama always says with a helpless sigh and her nose scrunched up , “and if she keeps this up, no boy will ever want her when she comes of age”.

“Mama settle down”, I always say, “she is just a child, she will understand soon enough”.

Then Mama smiles and agrees, always following with “ your so wise in some ways”.

Mama is a petite woman, but very strong willed.  She has an oval face, and is very fair skinned. Her eyes are a bright emerald color, that always shine. In fact, you can see in her eyes that she is truly happy with her how her life turned out.   Her once shining deep red hair is now dull from age, but you can still see how beautiful she was in her day, and it is plain to see why Papa fell in love with her. All of Mama’s friends envied her when Papa was courting her, and all of Papa’s friends envied him.  Papa tells me often that I favor her in many ways, because I too am quite thin, my skin is almost the color of milk, with long shiny dark red hair that flows down my back to the top of my thighs, and I have the same oval face and bright emerald eyes.  Mama is very kind and gentle, but has the ability to turn firm and tough if the situation calls for it.   

When Mama said that I am wise in some ways,  she means I know how the world works, or is supposed to work, but when it comes to doing what is common of a girl of 16, I go against everything I ought to do.  For instance, by the age of 16, I should be well taught by my Mama in how to keep  house, tend children, and fix a meal good enough for the richest of the rich with close to nothing, and of course being called on by lots of boys.  I am courted by many, and I can do all those things  to run a house and raise a family, but the trouble is, I don’t want to be just another common girl.  I want to truly live my life, not settle down, and I never want to  say, “ I always wanted to but it wasn’t right for a girl to do such things.” 

Mama fell in love with Papa when she was just 16, so she married him and did what she thought was her duty, but I always wondered if she ever had any dreams of her own. 

As I had guessed, about five minutes had passed when Papa came through our old, splintered door grinning as though he just won 100 more acres of land.

“What are  you so happy about Pa”? Mama asked with a sour face because he didn’t bother to knock the dust from his shoes.

“Bridey” he said “I have something I hope will be as good of news to you as it is to me”.

“What is it Papa”? I asked cautiously, because I feared hurting his feelings again, knowing what news he had.

“I just talked to Liam O‘Conally” he said very proud of himself, “and your never gonna guess what we talked about”!

“I bet I can Papa and the answer is no”, I said firmly but softly.

Papa just stood there for a second and I waited for what I was sure was going to be a fit of rage.

“Bridey, darlin”, Papa said suddenly serious with a soft, sad look in his eyes, “if you keep turning them all down, no one will have you”.

I plopped down in one of the few chairs we had like my baby sister Taryn sometimes does when Mama, on a rare occasion, actually tells her she can’t help the boys in the field, in a huff with my arms crossed.

“Papa, how many times am I to do this with you”? I whined, “I don’t want to marry yet, I want to have adventures before I settle down”.

“Bridey”, he said getting annoyed, “the O’ Conally boy is the third to ask your hand in marriage”!

Papa came home four months ago, saying that Peter McCraith had asked him for my hand in marriage.  Peter is the son of Donald McCraith, the closest man to talk to if your horses need new shoes.  He is not very tall, which would be very funny to see the two of us together, because I am very tall, and he has a dreadful lisp.

Then about two and a half months ago, Papa came home asking if I would marry Henry O’ Maille.  Henry is very tall, and quite handsome, but he is known for his temper, and “King of the world” behavior.  His father is a farmer just like Papa, but even if I wanted to marry, I would not have picked either of them.  My ideal husband, should I choose to marry, would be tall, handsome, and rough on the outside, ready to fight for me, but very tender and kind behind doors.

“ Bridey’s gonna be an old maid like old Miss Ni’ Mathuna”, Taryn teased.

Muriel Ni’ Mathuna is an old woman just outside of the nearest town to us, Carlow, an old maid that never has visitors at her door.  I have often asked Mama  about her, and she always says “ It isn’t nice to talk about people Bridey”, and she would always find something else to talk about.

Being tired of hearing the same old things, I finally said “ I don’t care if I do become an old maid,  at least then I will know the life I ended up with was my own doing and not the doing of what everyone else wants”!

Papa threw his hands in the air in disgust and grumbled “that damn girl will be the death of me yet, mad she is, just talkin crazy”,  on his way out the door.  He was probably going to help Joseph finish for the day and then to clean up for supper.   

“ Bridey, anyone else in your place would be so lucky to have so many proposals for marriage, and yet you want to lose that for foolish ideas of adventure, when the greatest adventure of all in life is that of love and children” Mama pleaded with me.

I looked hopelessly around our one room home, looking at our meager belongings.  Our home has two windows and an old splintered door that screeches every time it’s opened.  If you were to stand at the door and look in, there would be hay in the left corner, behind the door, with blankets on top.  That is where we sleep.  To your right we have an old table that bends in the middle from years of use, with benches to match on both sides .  Mama and Papa each have their own chair for the ends of the table.  They too are worn and threaten to break when sat on. Along the wall strait across from the door is the wood burning stove,  a basin and a tub. The stove is used for cooking, warming our bath water, and heating our home, and has a pipe that runs out the top of our house.  The basin, on one side of the stove, is used for cleaning our dishes, and garments.  On the other side , is the tub we wash in every few days.  All the girls share bath water, then Mama will heat more on the stove, and all the boys share that water.

“ Maybe for you Mama, but I know there is more, and I intend to find it”.