Today is a special day. I chose April 4th to be the birthday of Phoebe, a young girl born in a little village near Albany, New York - back in 1800's, when the world was bursting with new inventions and discoveries.
Here is a short excerpt from the novel A Home for Phoebe -
Phoebe's Birthday
Once again, the winter winds turned into
the warm breezes of spring. Streams roared with the melting snows, linens
fluttered on the clotheslines, and the phoebes nested in eaves of the barn. The
hens led their broods of chicks about the yard. Lolly, the Jersey cow had a
calf.
Maseppequa returned from the barn with a
full pail of milk just as the family roused for the day. Ben tickled Phoebe.
“Guess what today is.”
“Christmas?”
Her face lit up hopefully.
“Close . .
. It’s your birthday! Five years ago, on
a warm April day, a day like today, just as the sun peeked through the apple
tree, God gave us a wonderful present that had two arms, two legs, and two blue
eyes.”
“Me!”
Maseppequa
poured the milk through a clean cloth while she listened. I remember day Phoebe be born. Much had changed in the last five years. It
seemed a lifetime ago.
Ben touched
the tip of Phoebe's nose. “Yes, you . . . but what happened? You’re much too
big to be that little girl!”
“I grew!”
“Are you
sure? Let’s measure you on the door frame.”
Phoebe
scurried to the pantry door and pushed her back against it, holding her chin up
high. Ben scratched a mark above her head and stretched the measuring tape to
the floor. “Hmm . . . I don’t believe it! Ten feet tall!”
“No, Papa!”
“Hmm . . .
Now, this is more like it . . . three feet and four inches.”
Phoebe
tipped her head to look at the top. “How big are you, Papa?”
Ben stood
against the door as Martha marked him.
Maseppequa
carried the pail to the shed where the milk would stay cool. When she returned,
Ben was measuring Martha. Phoebe hopped from one foot to the other.
"Maseppa, how many birthdays do you have?"
She looked
from Phoebe to Martha and Ben. "I . . . I not know. I be many seasons.”
She held up her fingers. “Maybe four . .
. five hands . . . I not know." The room suddenly seemed too small and too
warm. "I go for walk. I be back before dark."
I not belong here. No matter how hard
Maseppequa tried to forget her past, it crept up and reminded her that she was
different. She would never fit in this world of the white man. Maybe Pete
should have taken her back to the Indians.
No, I not belong with Algonkin. Maybe it would have been better if he had
never come back into her life. I not belong. It be better I not be born.
The trees
and crickets whispered comfort to her soul. When the bright star shone in the
west, she followed the trail back to where she knew there was love.
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