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Walking to School: Young James prepares to head to the one room schoolhouse.
Posted by Trent, Sep 3, 2012. 1163 views. ID = 5839

Walking to School

Posted by Trent, Sep 3, 2012. 1163 views. ID = 5839
This post was written in 23 minutes.
Any family members who read this will easily pick up on the identity of "James." For those of you who are not, you surely have missed out on knowing the man this boy became.
This post has been awarded 9 stars by 2 readers.

As young James stepped on his grandparent's ancient porch he felt a familiar ache in his 7 year old heart. Glancing across the field there set the closed up home of his family. Father, for the most part, seemed to bury himself deeper and deeper into his work. James was to young to understand the devastation that death can cause.

Though only three years had passed, it was an eternity to him. Influenza caused the death of first his older brother then followed soon by his sweet mother. Since then his grandmother had been his primary care-giver.

Grandfather James, for whom he had been named, could do no more than lay in bed yelling for his wife to come and care for him. James could not remember him before the paralyzing stroke had struck.


Barney came bouncing up on the porch panting to be petted. This was his best friend. If one was watching closely you could easily see that something was wrong with his petting hand. Four fingers. He lost the fifth last winter in an incident that nearly took his life.

"Today" thought James "I'm not going to let it get to me. Today I'm going to school and lose myself in the stories."

As he headed for the trail that wound through the thick woods he quoted his favorite poem:

Baby bye, here's a fly,
We will watch him, you and I;
Lest he fall in Baby's mouth,
Bringing germs from north and south.
In the world of things a-wing
There is not a nastier thing
Than this pesky little fly;--
So we'll watch him, you and I.

See him crawl up the wall,
And he'll never, never fall;
Save that, poisoned, he may drop
In the soup or on the chop.
Let us coax the cunning brute
To the tempting Tanglefoot,
Or invite his thirsty soul
To the poison-paper bowl.

I believe with six such legs
You or I could walk on eggs;
But he'd rather crawl on meat
With his microbe-laden feet.
Eggs would hardly do as well--
He could not get through the shell;
Better far, to spread disease,
Vegetables, meat, or cheese.


There he goes, on his toes,
Tickling, tickling Baby's nose.
Heaven knows where he has been,
And what filth he's wallowed in.
Drat the nasty little wretch!
He's the deuce and all to ketch.
Ah! He's settled on the wall.
Now the thunderbolt shall fall!

Baby bye, see that fly?
We will swat him, you and I.(Bert Leston Taylor)

James loved the way that words danced in his mouth.

After about a mile through the woods, he stopped on the crest of a hill. It overlooked the brook that fed into the beautiful lake beyond. At the foot of the hill was the one room school house. Many children were already milling about the yard, boys on one side, girls on the other.

James began to think of the best way to make his presence known, as he held 4 crab apples in his crippled hand.



Copyright 2012 Trent. All rights reserved. FifteenMinutesOfFiction.com has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.
 


   
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This post has been awarded 9 stars by 2 readers.

Comments


alilee
Sep 4, 2012
Great piece of writing
   ~Posted by alilee, Sep 4, 2012

Trent
Sep 4, 2012
Thanks alilee.

I appreciate the encouragement.
   ~Posted by Trent, Sep 4, 2012



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