I tried to pick up some thread in my life that I could cling to, from which to build some sort of direction, but there was nothing. Everything was tied to Daniel, and he was gone now. It was like trying to build a house of cards and taking out the primary structure. In making him the center of my existence, I has lost nearly all of my self identity, too, because everything I wanted to be had revolved around what I would be to him. I could see now what a fatal mistake this had been.
The goat people, Chris and Jaylene, came over more often, still talking about goats. They wanted a garden fence and to make a garden. They had goats to give. A trade. We didn't do anything with the goats we had already. But, I went along anyway when we measured off the fencepost distances by pacing around the perimeter of the garden to be. We dug postholes, set the posts, helped stretch and staple the woven wire up. Of course wire was needed...against the goats. I already knew how ravenous goats were; Penny had ravaged my sole cauliflower plant just as it was making a tiny, nickel sized head. The thought angered me every time I remembered it.
They loaned us some goat books so we would know what we were getting into. These hippes were talkative and opinionated and cultured, and most of all, they treated me almost as an adult rather than some sort of a serf in my stepdad's kingdom. I began going back through the old Mother Earth News magazines, reading goat articles, and then I read the goat books, cover to cover, more than once. It was a diversion from the pain that was smothering me. When Chris and Jaylene came back, they were surprised that I had read the books already. I said that although I had read them both thoroughly, i was still absorbing the content somewhat. They looked at me strangely, and Jayelene muttered something about "absorbtion of a book" as she turned away and readied to leave. We were to receive at least two young milkers, each with a single kid. Everyone clamored about which goat they would get. I rolled my eyes and went back to my room. So much fuss over a few goats!
The goat people, Chris and Jaylene, came over more often, still talking about goats. They wanted a garden fence and to make a garden. They had goats to give. A trade. We didn't do anything with the goats we had already. But, I went along anyway when we measured off the fencepost distances by pacing around the perimeter of the garden to be. We dug postholes, set the posts, helped stretch and staple the woven wire up. Of course wire was needed...against the goats. I already knew how ravenous goats were; Penny had ravaged my sole cauliflower plant just as it was making a tiny, nickel sized head. The thought angered me every time I remembered it.
They loaned us some goat books so we would know what we were getting into. These hippes were talkative and opinionated and cultured, and most of all, they treated me almost as an adult rather than some sort of a serf in my stepdad's kingdom. I began going back through the old Mother Earth News magazines, reading goat articles, and then I read the goat books, cover to cover, more than once. It was a diversion from the pain that was smothering me. When Chris and Jaylene came back, they were surprised that I had read the books already. I said that although I had read them both thoroughly, i was still absorbing the content somewhat. They looked at me strangely, and Jayelene muttered something about "absorbtion of a book" as she turned away and readied to leave. We were to receive at least two young milkers, each with a single kid. Everyone clamored about which goat they would get. I rolled my eyes and went back to my room. So much fuss over a few goats!
posted by chamoisee at
3:52 PM
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