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| Message From: madure |
Total Posts: 261 |
Rank: Thinker |
| Post Date: 15/08/2006 20:07:21 |
Points: 1355 |
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From the way my parents were acting just days before my 10th birthday, I thought for sure that I would finally get a horse of my own. I spent hours dreaming of riding across the fields; hand feeding it apples and carrots in the barn; and the fancy saddle that would make all my friends jealous. I squealed with excitement when my father walked in to my party and announced that he had a special gift for his birthday girl. Then my heart sank as he opened his cupped hands and presented me with a baby chick. My saddle dreams were dashed. Even though the disappointment was evident on my face, he smiled and handed me the chick. “It’s all yours. I think you’re ready to take care of this chick by yourself.”
That chick turned out to be harder to raise than I thought. I had to mend all the small holes in the chicken yard fence, feed her and make sure she had fresh water. Some days the weather seemed too bad to have to trudge out to the chicken coop, but my father would remind me that my chicken was relying on me for its care and out the door I would go.
My eleventh birthday rolled around without anticipation. I had given up on my dream for a horse. As I walked into the kitchen that morning, my father pointed toward a large gift-wrapped box by the back door. Tearing open the wrapper, I found a beautiful saddle with a note that read, “Take this to your new friend in the barn. You’ve earned her.”
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