JoBeth; Old Fashioned Gurl

Today I will be starting a new phase of my life. The movers had been here the previous day and had packed most of our things. Now they were finishing loading the moving van with our personal items. They were scheduled to leave today, arriving at our new home by Friday if the weather cooperated.

Mom and I would follow them out of town, but would arrive at the farm late Wednesday or early Thursday morning, with the moving van arriving late Friday afternoon. We would unpack the car, stock up the kitchen, and arrange for the delivery of the new furniture. Hopefully, everything would go as planned because within four weeks some of Mom’s students would be arriving. After the moving van finishes unloading on Friday or Saturday, the real work starts as we decorate and arrange the furnishings in the new house.

Mom had taught school for over ten years, starting by teaching first grade, and then high school, eventually teaching college level courses in home economics. This was not the typical cooking class or sewing class; this was how to run a household. Aspects included budget keeping, child care (at all levels), supporting a husband, and basically anything to do with managing a family. The making of clothes is also handled, as well as keeping up appearances so that your husband doesn’t feel the need to wander. Her master’s degree in teaching and psychology were obtained with lots of hard work and perseverance.

She was born Mary Elizabeth to a loving couple that raised her the same way that Mom wanted to teach to her students. She met Dad at an agricultural conference that they both attended. The love, at first sight, is applied, and six months later they were married. I came along about a year later, Joseph Elizabeth, named after my grandfather (Joseph) and my grandmother (Elizabeth). I was always referred to as Jo around the school and with friends, but at home, I was Jo Beth.

Mom was very grateful for her upbringing, deciding to make my name a tribute to her parents. She had completed college when she had met Dad, stayed at home to raise me, until I reached school age. Then while I was at school, she took courses leading to her master’s degrees some five years later.

I never came home to an empty house, and don’t ever remember owning any clothes that my mother had not made for me. Although we lived in the suburbs on a five-acre parcel, Dad had a huge organic garden, and we had many fruit trees, a cow for milk, a few goats, and some chickens. Nowadays, some random zoning law would forbid that from ever happening.

Mom has always been outspoken, her opinion is that most young women are totally unaware of what they were up against when they married. When these same women had to go to work to help support the family, they were clueless as to handle any part of the resulting problems. The problems resulting from these changes in modern lifestyles are a wake-up call to any relationship.

Quite often arguments ensued because the wife did not have a clue how to support her husband. Then taking appropriate action to conserve money, making things last longer than normal until finances could catch up to the lifestyle they had decided to live in. The choice of lifestyle was routinely their worst choice. They wanted to have it all, instead of taking small steps to achieve their dream. Then when parents could not or would not help, the marriage started coming apart.

Due to a windfall of finances from a relative Mom is finally able to do what she has dreamed about for years, the school she had envisioned is about to come true. She had been putting money aside for the last five years, but the windfall made all of her dreams possible much sooner than she had anticipated. She purchased a small farm, about three hundred acres, in the middle of nowhere. The seclusion of the farm is on purpose. No cell phone towers, no texting, no close malls to shop at, just learning how to deal with life. The nearest town is about sixty miles away, but still within the borders of southwest Utah.

She wanted a hands-on type of school teaching the basics of surviving in this world today. No fancy equipment or kitchen tools, no computers, no maids, just a no nonsense approach to running a household, raising kids, and living a relatively happy and sensible life. It is her firm belief, that what comes with today’s lifestyle just makes everything more complicated.

Children don’t know how to have fun without parking themselves in front of a computer or texting their friends constantly on their cell phones. Being way off the beaten track, as this farm was, would guarantee no distractions from modern day society. It was her belief that if a young woman could learn some of the old ways of doing things she could handle anything thrown her way by the modern lifestyle.

The couple that couldn’t handle the things necessary to realize their dreams could have made it if they had the knowledge and skills, the lack thereof causing them to lose everything. Her schooling could not educate the male in a relationship on what he needs to do to support his family. However, if she taught the wife the basics she could guide her husband to the correct answers and behaviors.

At our old home, a large area was devoted to organic fruit and vegetable gardens. Of course, chickens were kept for their eggs and goats for their milk. The resulting harvest of these commodities was preserved or made into items that could be consumed. Mom made most of our clothes, and I never wanted for anything in my childhood. My parents made time for me, and as a family, we enjoyed many memories of good times past.

I was not pampered as a child. I had daily chores that were my responsibility to accomplish. Some of them were to be done before school, the rest after I returned home. I guess I turned out okay since I graduated from high school with a 4.0 GPA and scholarships to four colleges. I applied myself to my studies and did not participate in sports.

I am tall for my age at 5 ft. 9 in. but skinny as a rail like my Mother. Since Mom and I share her ideals and goals, I chose to stay out of college and help Mom in her school. The things I had learned from both of them made college not really that important to me, the practical knowledge much more useful to me. At our old home, I had managed the gardens, the livestock and much of the daily maintenance of the house. Mom was busy teaching and Dad with his business.

He did consulting work for Organic Growers. Since he was born and raised on one of the largest Organic farms in the country, his advice is widely respected and admired. He was able to pass most of that knowledge to me, not in this is how you perform this task, but in doing the required tasks for myself. As I grew the vegetables and fruits, I learned when to fertilize, what to spray when the insects got out of control, and when the crop is ready to pick. Knowledge passed along from one generation to another, information never found in a book. The same thing that Mom is going to teach in her school.

Dad was killed in Iraq, shortly after he was deployed, leaving just Mom and me to fend for ourselves. Although he was in a National Guard unit, the lack of soldiers needed to fight in the conflict required units like his to be called up. It is doubtful that his unit was trained properly since most of his unit was killed or wounded within days of deployment.

Mom missed him quite a bit but recouped quite a bit faster than me. I missed Dad terribly since we were more buddies than father and son. I was never the macho alpha male that is common in those days, but Dad loved me just as much. We fished, went camping, and just enjoyed Nature at her best.

After his death, Mom and I seemed to mesh somehow into a caring, purposeful relationship. She spoke out loud about her dreams, her wishes and her desire to make something out of her life. She included me in her plans, and on several occasions invited me to join her in her endeavors. The choice was always left open for me; she wanted me to be able to do what would make me happy in my life, not just what she envisioned for me.

One such relative was my Dad’s brother who wanted me to come work for him in his construction company. Since he only had four daughters, he really had no one to leave his company to when he died. He tried on many occasions to convince me to join him, but Mom kept him from shoving that down my throat.

Although I didn’t have any plans for my future that were firm, she told him that I knew exactly what I wanted from my life, and she would support me in those desires. That at least kept him from pestering me so much. The fact that I had no interest in the construction business never did affect how my uncle pushed for me to join him. He just figured that I would jump at the chance to be a part of his business.

Mom knew a lot of people from where she grew up, that were trying to teach their children the old time ways of doing things. When she announced her plans for a school to teach the basics of running a household, she received inquiries from many of them. She sent details and shortly after had four students signed up for her first session.

Each session is six months long, requiring two sessions to cover all the material necessary. This is not the standard book learning; this is a hands-on type of education where the student actually had to do the tasks on a daily basis to pass. Mom felt that four students is enough to handle for her first session. She wanted to be able to spend the time with each student on a one to one basis. The schooling, of course, included room and board, thus the main reason for the farm.

Although the primary emphasis is on the role of a female in the marriage, Mom never stated that the student had to be a female. In fact, she had one inquiry from a couple for their son to become a student. When Mom sent more details on the curriculum, there was no further contact, she later learned the parents wanted him to attend, the son vetoed it as being too female oriented.

The old farmhouse on the property she bought was in good shape, having been apparently recently remolded by the previous owners. It is a three-story redwood construction with eight bedrooms, each with a separate bath. The ground floor had a large living room, a dining room, a study, and a spacious kitchen. The bottom floor alone is over twenty-five hundred square feet.

All of the floors are hardwood construction, and three fireplaces completed the uniqueness of the house. It was truly majestic as we pulled up the lane to the garage at the side of the house. Mom had picked out the house from the hundreds she had looked at over the last few months. Once she saw it, she fell in love with it, deciding that this was the one she wanted. It took several months for the purchase to go through, but Mom paying cash for it helped dramatically in that regard.

We had stopped at the last little town to eat at a small diner; actually, a truck stop would be a better description. The food is good and plentiful, although the service lacked somewhat. After getting our tummy’s full, the next stop is the local grocery store. Mom bought the basics needed for a few days, as I handled the shopping cart.

Mom didn’t believe in packaged mixes or frozen selections for any part of the meal. She bought the basic foods necessary to cook any of these dishes, but it was not Betty Crocker that put the meal together. We checked out, loaded our groceries into our van and headed out to the farm. Since she had purposefully picked a remote location, it took us about an hour to get there.

The moving van carried the bulk of the basic food that Mom would use, hence the need for a few items to use until the moving van arrived. She had been preparing for this for over a year and had stocked up in quantity. Until I could get the garden producing she had canned a lot of vegetables and fruit for us to use in the meantime.

Pulling into the drive that led to the farmhouse, both Mom and I were aware that this is the start of her lifelong dream. Mom pulled into the garage, and we put our purchases in the kitchen. We then took some time to check out the house. As part of the purchase she had negotiated a clause that would have the house thoroughly cleaned and minor repairs made where necessary. With her list of repairs that should have been completed, we strolled through the house. Whoever had done the cleaning and repairs had done an excellent job. The house was sparkling throughout and every item to be repaired on the list had been completed.

She returned to the kitchen to put away the groceries, and I went outside to check out the barn, the orchard, and the area where I would grow the vegetable garden. The barn is in excellent shape, about fifty feet square, with stalls on the lower level, and a loft for hay storage. There is a well at the rear of the barn and to one side that supplied the farm with drinking water and water for the orchard, livestock, and gardens.

I turned on the pump, flushed out the tank and waited for it to fill the tank. Once full, I flushed the lines out to the orchard, then to the gardens, then went back into the house to flush those lines out as well. I returned to the barn with my notes on what Mother and I wanted to do concerning livestock; chickens included. There is a small fenced field that butted up against the barn. That would be where we would keep the milk cows, the goats, and a couple of steers we would raise for beef. The fence seemed to be in good repair; even the gates looked brand new.

The previous owners had plans similar to ours, living off the grid, raising what food they could, just enjoying nature. The realtor told us it came all apart when they realized how much work it required. Since the couple had always lived in the city, it was a dream to them, but they were not prepared to sacrifice for the realization of their dreams.

Due to their lack of planning, they were forced to forfeit their dreams when the bank called in their loan. Mom had planned from the start what she wanted to do, even having contingencies for unplanned events. The inheritance only allowed her to implement her dream sooner rather than later.

The back of the barn had a lean-to attached to the rear of it. It was partially fenced with only an overhead roof, an excellent place to raise some chickens. When I talk about chickens, I am referring mainly for the eggs, not the meat.

After completing my checklist, I returned to the house to help Mom. She is still organizing the kitchen, laying out the ingredients for tonight’s supper. At that time, we took some time to discuss where the furniture was going to be placed when delivered tomorrow. When Mom had that figured out, I helped her to prepare supper.

A pot of macaroni was prepared, together with some fresh lettuce and vegetables a salad is concocted. A can of chicken along with lots of spices made a tasty salad worthy of one of the best chain restaurants. The combination of macaroni into a typical salad, when helped along with chicken made it a very satisfying dinner. Actually lots better than any culinary establishment.

I cleaned up after dinner, then joined Mom in the library or sitting room of the house. It still had the bookshelves that had been installed when the house was built. Of course, Mom had enough books to fill all the shelves when the moving van arrived. We sat in silence for a while, her reading the local newspaper, and me a gardening magazine that I received in the mail.

I had been thinking of several things that might be a problem with Mom’s school. I know Mom had covered all the bases with regards to possible problems, but for my benefit, I wanted to make sure that I am not responsible for any problems. I started the conversation with the fact that it was to be a boarding school. All of the students would be female since the school is meant to teach them how to interact with a male in raising a family. In other words, I would be the only male in a group of females.

Mom smiled but told me to quit skipping around the point and come out with it. I sighed, but then just blurted it out. I am afraid that the parents of the female students would complain about a sixteen-year-old male being around their daughters. She asked if I was planning on seducing the female students, causing me to blush all the way to my toes.

I screamed Mom, how can you think that. By now she is laughing at me but pulled me to her for a motherly hug. She informed me that all of the parents knew that there would be no person of the male gender anywhere around the school. I am puzzled, no, actually totally confused now at her statement. My response didn’t you want me to help with the school. She pulled me a little closer on the sofa, having me lean on her shoulder. I always liked it when she cuddled me this way, but to my regret, it never happened often enough.

Of course, she wanted me to help her. As far as she is concerned, I am a very integral part of the plan. I asked her to get to the point since she didn’t seem to be answering any of my queries. I am simply told that Jo would not be a part of the plan, but JoBeth, her daughter, was a key player. I looked at her trying to see if she is serious about this; she returned my stare. Then she suggested that I think about what part of me being a student with the others, could not be handled by me in female mode. I am stunned, my mother wanting me to be a female for the classes, surely the world as we know it, is ending.

It turned out to be untrue, that is about the world ending, but her desire for me to be a female for the class was the truth. She told me that she had informed all of the parents, that Jo would be attending the classes, but not as a male. I was described to them as being transgendered, in the middle of my transition, but presenting as a female.

Not one of the parents had any complaints on the matter. Now it is up to me, to participate in the program or set it out till the next classes. I knew she needed me to help in the curriculum, it just being too much for one person. I possessed all the skills already, where anyone new would have some gaps at least.

The stumbling block was my need to dress as a female, for the length of the semester. That means 24/7 as a female. I am sure with my small stature, disguising myself as a female would probably be easy, but did I want to endure the experience. I had on occasion dressed as a female for Halloween, plus a couple of costume parties, but that was only for a few hours, this is for months.

I was conflicted, no just terrified about all of this. Mom could see that I was in deep thought, so she just hung around waiting for me to get a grasp of the situation. I did manage to calm down a little and starting asking questions about this. I asked her if she really thought I could pass as a female. She pulled out a picture that had been taken several years ago but is still pretty much how I looked.

Then she pulled a duplicate that had been photo shopped to show how I would look as a girl. I couldn’t see any male in the second picture, heck; I am even pretty. The color of my hair had been changed to a light ash blonde, but everything was as it was in the first picture, except for makeup, and a feminine change of clothes. She wanted to know if I wanted to try it, a trial run to see if I could handle it. I decided that a trial was necessary since I had doubts that I could pull off the transition to female.

I received a big hug; then she told me an appointment is already scheduled for Monday after we get everything put in its place over the weekend. A one-day appointment at the Turnabout Gurl Salon in Flagstaff, about two and a half hours from here. Being an early appointment, I was told that we would have to leave the house by six A.M. They would handle my transformation, going in as a male and leaving as a young woman.

It was apparent that she had this thought out, for quite some time, to have made appointments in advance. I know she has not had the chance to do so since we left the old house, so she had made them at least a week ago. I smiled, asking her when she was going to tell me all of this, her reply; “I was sure that you would bring it up since you always think everything through to make sure all bases are covered, and you did.” I received a big hug, a kiss on the cheek, and asked if I wanted some hot cocoa. I instantly agreed as we went to the kitchen to make a couple of cups.

We set at the kitchen table, sipping our cocoa, going over all the things we would have to do to get ready for the four students. She had contacted a manager at a livestock auction outside of Williams, Arizona to assist in obtaining the livestock we needed. He had told my Mom about a Mormon family that lived near us; that sold what we needed. We were going over to their farm on Saturday to pick out what we needed. They would deliver the livestock to us late next week after I got everything ready for the animals.

I decided to ask about clothes for my new persona, finding out that she had already sewn me a complete wardrobe, including lingerie, coming in the moving van. In fact, all of the students had similar wardrobes sewn for them. It was a starter set, with the students having to sew the rest as part of the curriculum. I asked her how she knew I would concede to do all of this, her answer being that a mother knows all there is about her child. I just looked at her, knowing that I had been cleverly maneuvered into girlhood for the next few months.

She knew I would help her, no matter what it was that I had to do. We were a team now with a purpose in life, and a plan to accomplish it. It did seem that Mother had a little more input in the plan than I had first imagined.

The next day, bright and early the furniture people delivered the new purchases, even helping us assemble the pieces that required it. After more than five hours, everything had been put in the appropriate room, the beds assembled, and the cardboard boxes returned to the truck. The furniture came from a national company, ordered from their website, and delivered from their local store in Flagstaff.

There were quite a few pieces, taking up most of the large bobtail truck. The driver had two helpers to place the furniture in its appropriate rooms and assemble the required pieces. Several times, it was mentioned about the obvious femininity of the furniture by the guys. Mom told them of the school and what is going to be taught here. The feminine furniture is because the students are all young women. After Mother had told them of her school, the driver mentioned that he would have his wife inquire for his daughter, someone that could benefit from what she was teaching.

All he would say is that she had gotten into the wrong crowd, lost direction in her life, her grades slipping into the D range. They were afraid that she would drop out of school, rather than buckle down in her studies. She told him that she would be glad to talk with his wife to see if anything could be done to help the teen.

After they had left, we nibbled on some cold cuts, and a glass of iced tea. She was happy with the quality of the furniture since most of the items were bought sight unseen. We walked through each room, making small adjustments in the placement of items. As she did a list was made of the bedding, curtains and accessories needed in each room. Mother had anticipated most of these things and had sewn them before we left home. Of course, I would have to hang the drapes, the covers for the canopy beds, and hang the pictures in each room.

With the list finished we adjourned to her bedroom, to rest for a while. We were both in pretty good shape, but trips up and down the stairs as we helped with the furniture placement were not anticipated. Consequently, as soon as we laid down we both fell asleep.

Mother had planned for my acceptance since she had two full-size beds placed in the master bedroom. It did make sense to have me sleeping in her room, to minimize any detection of my disguise. I didn’t think that I would be that convincing, but Mother had other ideas. I guess Monday would see if I was, indeed, passable as a girl. When I awoke, after our impromptu afternoon nap, Mother had already gone downstairs, presumably to fix us some dinner.

I went to the bathroom, cleaned up a little and then went down to help. As I entered the kitchen, I saw a pair of high heels on the table, next to a pair of knee highs. Mom smiled and asked me to put them on; my training is to start now. I pulled up the knee highs after removing my socks, then slipped my feet into the heels.

I attempted to stand up, catching myself as I grabbed a hold of the table. Mom’s giggling was not helping with my problem at all. I did manage to achieve an upright position; then she requested that I walk over to her. I took a few tentative steps, surprisingly managing to keep my balance. Mom’s suggestion is for me to take smaller steps as I made my way across the kitchen floor.

As we were cooking dinner, I became a little less awkward in the heels, managing to maneuver with ease. We set down at the kitchen table to nibble on our fare, a rice casserole, with broccoli, in a mushroom soup base. Not bad for about twenty minutes work. Mom asked if my heels felt alright, I told her that my calves were hurting, but other than that they were fine. Until Monday, they would be my shoe of choice, mastering walking in heels, a major step in female deportment. I wanted to know how I was going to do the garden work in heels, though, but she just laughed it off, I am sure you will manage.

When it came time for bed, she handed me a nightie, a thin strap baby doll with ruffled panties, then braided my long brunette hair. The braid she had done before, keeping it from tangling as I slept, but the baby doll is quite a surprise. I liked it, but I felt like I was naked in the skimpy material. Mom tucked me in, and within a few minutes, we were both asleep, even though we had napped this afternoon.

Morning came way too early, as the persistent sun peeked into the room, then as if a switch had been thrown the sun brightened and became almost blinding. So much for sleeping a little later, the sun streaming in through any crack in the curtains helping to make any further sleep impossible. When Mom looked out of the window, she saw the moving van parked outside, they apparently had arrived during the night and had parked getting some sleep themselves. I was shaken, to get me moving, with Mom handing me a pile of clothes as I went into the bathroom.

I washed up a little since there was not enough time for a shower. Brushed my teeth, removed my nightie, and started dressing in the clothes Mom had given me. As I grabbed the first item, I realized that Jo Beth was going to be the one at my Mother’s side today. I pulled up the panties, and then a camisole over my chest, the next item a shock.

She had wanted me to wear a dress today, a plain A-line dress in a yellow and burgundy print. The skirt was quite full, falling just a little above my ankles. It fitted me perfectly, but since my Mother had made it, that was no surprise. As I made my way out of the bathroom, she had the biggest smile on her face. I could tell that she is enjoying this way more that she should. I am told to put my knee-highs back on, and the heels.

I asked if she didn’t want me to help today, dressed the way I am, a difficult feat. She just wanted me to show the movers where we wanted things and let them do all the work. I am going to be a helpless female today, letting the big strong males do all the work. I giggled at that, then stopped suddenly when Mom came over and applied a coat of lipstick to my lips.

As an afterthought, she brushed my lashes with some mascara and showed me how I looked in a hand mirror she had brought with her. Jo was gone, completely gone, a young and attractive female the image looking back at me. It only took a dress and some makeup to transform me totally to a member of the female sex. Mom suggested that I talk in a higher range, whispering if my voice tried to break. She also pointed out that a female’s voice is always a little more sing-song than a males, rising and falling as I speak. I tried a few words, Mom nodding her head that would be fine, as long as I didn’t forget that I am now a woman.

A van arrived about forty minutes later; the moving companies help to get the trailer unloaded and in the house. With the driver, there was four of them to unload the furniture and boxes. Mom and I waited at the front door, telling them where each load is to be placed. They made quick work of the contents of the moving van, Starting a little after nine this morning, the last box was brought in and placed in the kitchen by one-thirty. They picked up their equipment and furniture blankets and left.

By two o’clock Mom had made us some lunch, and I had made a big pitcher of iced tea. We nibbled a little but left most of the sandwiches for later. The food was first to be unpacked, most of it vegetables and fruit that Mother and I had canned back home. These would be our staples until I could get the garden started. The kitchen had a large walk-in pantry with shelves all around the walls. By the time, we had finished unpacking all of the shelves were full but two.

The next boxes to be unpacked were our clothes, taking them out of the boxes and putting them on hangers. It did not go unnoticed that all of my male clothes were left in the boxes. I asked about them, Mom telling me that we would probably donate them to a charity once I decided to remain a female. I started to protest, but she had already changed the subject to what dress I was going to change into for dinner. Why would I want to change into another dress for dinner? I quickly found out from Mom, that I would indeed change for dinner, including my underwear. With regards to what a female does, Mom was cutting me no slack.

We ate the remainder of the sandwiches, along with some frozen vegetables we had obtained in town. Now that our good food is here, the need to get rid of the store bought items became a necessity. Mom never would throw out food that was edible, a waste of money and resources. I cleaned up then we started in each room, setting it up and hanging drapes and making the beds. We managed three of the student rooms, and our room before we gave out.

It wasn’t until I sat down on my bed that I realized that I had worn the heels all day. My calves hurt a little, but not bad enough that I couldn’t ignore the feeling. Mom sat watching me, as I rubbed my feet and legs after slipping off the heels. I got up to go the bathroom and almost fell over. Mom is giggling, with her hand over her mouth trying to limit the laughter. I stood again but this time held on to the corner of the canopy bed. Mom suggested putting the heels back on or walking on my toes. Up on my toes, the trip went without incident, and I made my way back to sit on the bed.

I removed the rest of my clothes and slipped on the nightie from last night. Mom insisted that I change my panties every day, and bras the same after Monday. Another question answered, Monday I get breasts apparently. She gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek, as she did this I was looking at her feet clad in ladies flats. I asked her where her heels are, she smiled, when you get as old as me that is a reward for putting up with everything female, you get to wear flats again. You, young lady, are not to that point yet. I smiled at her, okay Mom.

Earlier I was going to protest about the heels, but the longer I wore them, the more comfortable they became. My calves did hurt a little, but not to the level that I could not live with it. I realized that I had spent the entire day as a female, with no comment being made about a boy masquerading as a female. Originally I thought that I would not be able to do anything in the dress and heels, another Jo thought shot down in flames. In fact, thinking back on the day, it had been a pretty good day.

Dinner turned out to be quiche, with bacon and vegetables added for variety. It tasted quite good but is also light not making you feel that you had eaten too much. I helped clean up then we moved our discussion to the living room. Tomorrow we would finish setting up the rooms and unpacking the things from our old house. Then Monday it is off to my appointment to make the transition from male to female. If tomorrow goes well we will wander over to see about the livestock, if we don’t get to it, then Tuesday is the day.

Again we are tired enough to get quickly to sleep, the sun and the cool night air helping to wake us especially early. I helped her with breakfast, then we dressed and started on the rest of the rooms. By one-thirty, we had the rooms pretty much set up, and only about twenty boxes that still needed to be unpacked. Most of the remaining items to be unpacked were books and nick knacks for the living room and den. We decided to leave those for later and see about obtaining some livestock.

Mom followed the directions given to her; it turned out to be about forty minutes to their farm. After the introductions, we were shown what they had available and the price of each. We had decided on some chickens, some goats, two or three steers for meat and a milk cow. Since there are some unfriendly critters roaming the farms they suggested some Ginny hens, a Ginny hen will make you aware of snakes, sometimes even doing away with them.

For snakes, the one thing I didn’t have, is a gun and Mom decided that we should handle that soon since we were too far out from help and from any hospital. Dad had taught me how to shoot, we just never had any reason to have a gun at our previous residence. We placed our order with them, and they would deliver the animals later in the week, either Thursday or Friday.

With that handled we headed back home, Mom teasing me about their teenage son who had eyes for me according to her. She told me she would personally coach me in landing a beau, marrying into that family probably a smart decision for me, I would never have to work outside the home, just care for my husband. I gave her such a look. Eventually, she broke out laughing so hard; it took her quite a few minutes before she could bring herself under control.

I could see that some teasing would be coming my way, ever chance she got to make me feel like a real daughter. Maybe that is what she really wanted, a real daughter to teach and confide in, eventually to marry and give her some grandchildren. Deep in my heart I knew that would please her to no end, not something she could tell me about, fearing I would be disappointed that I couldn’t deliver what she really wanted in life.

Story Incomplete At Present

© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker

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