The Old House Road

Things are different now. The old man doesn’t bring us fresh baked bread each morning on his way to the fields. Mother breaks into harsh coughing fits every now and then. She appears frail now, from the strong beautiful woman who raised us. The cold winter was creeping in with the days drawing short. The fire lit the room a soft glow as I sat huddled in a tattered blanket reading to little Sammy.

“But when the Elephant is tamed, he becomes very useful. In India the people ride on his back as we do on a horse.” I read aloud a passage from Peter Parley’s Story of the Elephant.

“I want to ride the Elephant!” Sammy exclaimed, pointing at a picture of an elephant and a tree.

“Maybe when you’re older. We can go adventure off to the African Safari. Way out into the jungle we’ll go, search for treasure we will. Live off the land as rugged men.” I began to feel my own excitement at the fantasy I concocted for Sammy.

“Yeah! And live with the lions!”

“Well, I don’t know if they would like us too much. We’d get eat.”

He made a sad groan and slumped back into the blanket. I started to read on while Sammy interrupted with various things he would have liked to do in Africa as we read of the animals.

Papa had been gone a few days now, off on the hunt with his long time friend Will. I was left to handle the chores while mother was ill, me being the eldest of sixteen. The town just a couple miles down the old dirt road had a horrid fire and supplies became scarce. The old man had died in the flames; he was our family friend and tutor. He always came by with fresh bread and fruit for the little ones. “Keeps ‘em healthy it does.” He would always say with a smile puffing his rosy cheeks out.

Sammy and Ellen, a few years younger than I, would run excitedly out to the gate when they would hear him pull up. He had taught us many things, not just schooling but the ways of the world. He would come with stories of Europe and Asia. It was a strange world out there so we had heard. I wanted to see it all.

Then he was gone. Some drunkards hard murdered him by their carelessness. It angered me the injustice that had taken place that day. I would lie in the evening twilight, exhausted from the days work but still wide-awake to wonder why it all must be this way; for something so incredibly good to be taken away like this.

I vowed to myself that one day something would be done. I didn’t know what it could be, but I sure as hell would do it. I could rest with this determination; it was a temporary satisfaction that would fester for years to come.