farms with so many
outbuildings and wondered if there hadn't been more here,” Karen
excused. “Was there ever a pond in the pasture?”
“Yes, years ago. It dried up when
we had a drought for a couple years and didn't fill back up when
the rains came. If you walk out north of the barn, you might be
able to see where the pond was. I believe a portion of the dam is
still there.”
“Thanks, Mom. That's all
interesting,” Karen told her. “One more thing. Did your
grandparents work the farm with horses?”
“Sure they did. That was before
tractors were invented,” Helen said.
“Do you remember what the horses
looked like?”
“Goodness, girl, you ask the
oddest questions. Best I remember Grandpa had two draft work
horses. Big blond ones with white feet. He had a pair of dappled
gray horses he used to pull the carriage.
After they got a car, he still took
the grandkids for rides in that carriage. We always thought it was
fun, but it had been a way of life for Grandpa Clell. One he hated
to give up. He loved his horses,” Helen said in a far away voice.
“Such good times.”
When the house seemed too quiet
that afternoon, Karen couldn't concentrate for wondering what Henie
might be doing. She should check on the robot to make sure she
hadn't slipped outside to visit the cat again. Not that she minded
Henie going to see the cat, she just worried that the robot might
fall and break something. The rough terrain wasn't as easy walking
as on smooth floors.
When she found the living room was
empty, Karen rested her hand on the stair railing. She heard the
faint sound of Henie's voice in her bedroom. Karen slipped up the
stairs as easy as she could. One of the steps squeaked, and she
hadn't paid enough attention to remember which one.
Henie was in her rocker by the
window. Her SAS shoes were spread apart to make more lap. Resting
on her apron was the picture from the attic.
Henie picked the picture and spoke
to it. “Clell, it's nice enough here yet, but this house just isn't
the same without you in it.” After a pause, she said, “What do you
mean I should be used to the way things are after all this time? I
really don't want to get used to you not being here with me, but it
does help that I can talk to you when I want to. Don't ever go
completely away. I always want to be able to hear your voice. That
always makes me feel better.”
Karen couldn't figure out why Henie
was talking to a picture like she knew the man in it. Odder yet was
the fact that Henie seemed to hear the man in the picture talking
back to her. It was another mystery. Could an elderly robot become
senile?
Henie laid the picture on her lap.
One hand rested on her knee. With the other she fished a flowered
hanky out of her apron pocket and wiped her nose. She laid her head
against the rocker. Her focus was out the window now, but her mind
seemed to be a long ways off.
Eerily, the cemetery popped into
Karen's mind. She knocked on the door lightly. When Henie twisted
to look at her Karen saw moisture on Henie's cheeks. She'd been
crying. “Sorry to bother you, Henie. I just wondered if you've
plugged yourself in lately to charge your battery?”
Henie looked at her blankly and
sniffled. “I forget if I have or not.”
“Just to be on the safe side, we
better charge the battery as long as you're sitting down.” Karen
grabbed the coiled up cord off the dresser and inserted it under
Henie’s arm. She glanced out the window, wondering if Henie's view
of the cemetery was what made the robot sad.
Other than the cemetery, there
wasn't much to see but fields and pasture. Karen wanted quiet. In
this place, she had that. Watching Henie, she realized the robot
looked out that window and saw a different scene. One that made her
nostalgic and brought her to tears.
“Karen, do you know anything about
your family tree?” Henie asked out of the blue.
That question
surprised Karen. Was Henie's hearing so
exceptional she overheard the phone
outbuildings and wondered if there hadn't been more here,” Karen
excused. “Was there ever a pond in the pasture?”
“Yes, years ago. It dried up when
we had a drought for a couple years and didn't fill back up when
the rains came. If you walk out north of the barn, you might be
able to see where the pond was. I believe a portion of the dam is
still there.”
“Thanks, Mom. That's all
interesting,” Karen told her. “One more thing. Did your
grandparents work the farm with horses?”
“Sure they did. That was before
tractors were invented,” Helen said.
“Do you remember what the horses
looked like?”
“Goodness, girl, you ask the
oddest questions. Best I remember Grandpa had two draft work
horses. Big blond ones with white feet. He had a pair of dappled
gray horses he used to pull the carriage.
After they got a car, he still took
the grandkids for rides in that carriage. We always thought it was
fun, but it had been a way of life for Grandpa Clell. One he hated
to give up. He loved his horses,” Helen said in a far away voice.
“Such good times.”
When the house seemed too quiet
that afternoon, Karen couldn't concentrate for wondering what Henie
might be doing. She should check on the robot to make sure she
hadn't slipped outside to visit the cat again. Not that she minded
Henie going to see the cat, she just worried that the robot might
fall and break something. The rough terrain wasn't as easy walking
as on smooth floors.
When she found the living room was
empty, Karen rested her hand on the stair railing. She heard the
faint sound of Henie's voice in her bedroom. Karen slipped up the
stairs as easy as she could. One of the steps squeaked, and she
hadn't paid enough attention to remember which one.
Henie was in her rocker by the
window. Her SAS shoes were spread apart to make more lap. Resting
on her apron was the picture from the attic.
Henie picked the picture and spoke
to it. “Clell, it's nice enough here yet, but this house just isn't
the same without you in it.” After a pause, she said, “What do you
mean I should be used to the way things are after all this time? I
really don't want to get used to you not being here with me, but it
does help that I can talk to you when I want to. Don't ever go
completely away. I always want to be able to hear your voice. That
always makes me feel better.”
Karen couldn't figure out why Henie
was talking to a picture like she knew the man in it. Odder yet was
the fact that Henie seemed to hear the man in the picture talking
back to her. It was another mystery. Could an elderly robot become
senile?
Henie laid the picture on her lap.
One hand rested on her knee. With the other she fished a flowered
hanky out of her apron pocket and wiped her nose. She laid her head
against the rocker. Her focus was out the window now, but her mind
seemed to be a long ways off.
Eerily, the cemetery popped into
Karen's mind. She knocked on the door lightly. When Henie twisted
to look at her Karen saw moisture on Henie's cheeks. She'd been
crying. “Sorry to bother you, Henie. I just wondered if you've
plugged yourself in lately to charge your battery?”
Henie looked at her blankly and
sniffled. “I forget if I have or not.”
“Just to be on the safe side, we
better charge the battery as long as you're sitting down.” Karen
grabbed the coiled up cord off the dresser and inserted it under
Henie’s arm. She glanced out the window, wondering if Henie's view
of the cemetery was what made the robot sad.
Other than the cemetery, there
wasn't much to see but fields and pasture. Karen wanted quiet. In
this place, she had that. Watching Henie, she realized the robot
looked out that window and saw a different scene. One that made her
nostalgic and brought her to tears.
“Karen, do you know anything about
your family tree?” Henie asked out of the blue.
That question
surprised Karen. Was Henie's hearing so
exceptional she overheard the phone
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