if I were the doctor. “Hmm, the fracture was stable,” I repeated.
“Right. But this is the fourth time in half as many years that Tannie’s fallen and hurt herself. I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse,” Mom said. “Next time it could be her hip or her back.”
Then Mom added, “Tannie’s doctor thinks the farm is too much for her now. It would be safer for her to live someplace smaller; she needs to be near people, not way out in the country, where no one is around to help. She’s not going to like it, but Tannie needs to move.”
I thought of Tannie’s yard, full of pink tea roses and big, showy flowers like gladiolus and hollyhock. I pictured her vegetable garden, which spreads across an entire acre of land, so big it could be a soccer field. I remembered the bobwhite quail that I always flush out of the woods at Tannie’s place. Tannie loves all kinds of birds, just like I do.
I’ve seen lots of birds in my life, but Tannie’s seen lots more. Tannie keeps a list of all the different birds she’s ever seen. She has hiked through mountains in Cuba to try to find a special woodpecker. She even flew to Peru to see the birds of Machu Picchu.
Almost 10,000 different bird species live on the earth! And my aunt Tannie has seen 3,026 of them. Now that I’m eight, I might just start a life list like Tannie’s.
Then I remembered the chickens and the mean old rooster that run all around Tannie’s farm.
“Where will the chickens go?” I asked. “What will she do?”
“W here else is there for Tannie to live?” I asked Mom.
“Don’t worry about that now.” Mom walked me back to my room. “Hop back in your bed, little one; find a good dream until morning.” She pulled my Sunbonnet Sue quilt all the way up to my neck.
“Who made this quilt? Jenna Phoebe, do you remember?” Mom asked. She always uses both my names when she kisses me and tucks me in.
I snuggled in deeper. Yes, I remembered. “Tannie made it when she was my age. That was a long time ago, when she was a farm girl, with much stronger bones.”
“This quilt has been keeping little girls warm for a lot of years,” Mom reminded me. “First Tannie, then me, and now you.” Mom kissed my nose good night.
“Try to get some sleep; it will be morning soon.” The clock by my bed had flipped over to four o’clock; I flipped over to the left.
A mockingbird started singing like crazy right outside my window. I couldn’t help but think of Tannie and her farm in Mississippi; there are lots of mockingbirds at Tannie’s.
I fluffed up my pillow. I flopped to the right. I wished I could see Tannie soon.
I turned onto my back and then onto my tummy. No matter whether I curled up tight or straightened myself out, I could not get to sleep. That crazy bird would not stop singing.
I could only think of Tannie, my very most favorite aunt.
We’re all the family Tannie has left in the world since her husband, Louis, died. I’ve heard stories about him; he’s famous in my family. Everyone called him “Saint Louis” because he was such a good man and the only one with patience enough to handle Tannie’s strong will. I never did get to meet Saint Louis; he died before I was born.
Now, other than the chickens, Tannie lives alone with her cat, Butt.
When we visit, Tannie’s rooster acts like he is the boss of me. I have to be careful around him. Once, I tried to pet him, and he bit my finger. It didn’t bleed, but it made me cry. The chickens are way nicer than that mean old rooster.
Tannie can make a chicken sound even better than a chicken:
“Bock-bock-bock-be-Gock! Bock-bock-bock-be-Gock!”
Tannie loves those chickens like they are her babies. Maybe that’s because she never had any babies of her own. I yawned. Actually, Butt is the biggest baby of all.
I yawned again and thought of how sweet Butt is to the chickens. Butt is so sweet, he even shows the rooster his tummy, and he never, ever lifts a paw to hurt the hens.
“Right. But this is the fourth time in half as many years that Tannie’s fallen and hurt herself. I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse,” Mom said. “Next time it could be her hip or her back.”
Then Mom added, “Tannie’s doctor thinks the farm is too much for her now. It would be safer for her to live someplace smaller; she needs to be near people, not way out in the country, where no one is around to help. She’s not going to like it, but Tannie needs to move.”
I thought of Tannie’s yard, full of pink tea roses and big, showy flowers like gladiolus and hollyhock. I pictured her vegetable garden, which spreads across an entire acre of land, so big it could be a soccer field. I remembered the bobwhite quail that I always flush out of the woods at Tannie’s place. Tannie loves all kinds of birds, just like I do.
I’ve seen lots of birds in my life, but Tannie’s seen lots more. Tannie keeps a list of all the different birds she’s ever seen. She has hiked through mountains in Cuba to try to find a special woodpecker. She even flew to Peru to see the birds of Machu Picchu.
Almost 10,000 different bird species live on the earth! And my aunt Tannie has seen 3,026 of them. Now that I’m eight, I might just start a life list like Tannie’s.
Then I remembered the chickens and the mean old rooster that run all around Tannie’s farm.
“Where will the chickens go?” I asked. “What will she do?”
“W here else is there for Tannie to live?” I asked Mom.
“Don’t worry about that now.” Mom walked me back to my room. “Hop back in your bed, little one; find a good dream until morning.” She pulled my Sunbonnet Sue quilt all the way up to my neck.
“Who made this quilt? Jenna Phoebe, do you remember?” Mom asked. She always uses both my names when she kisses me and tucks me in.
I snuggled in deeper. Yes, I remembered. “Tannie made it when she was my age. That was a long time ago, when she was a farm girl, with much stronger bones.”
“This quilt has been keeping little girls warm for a lot of years,” Mom reminded me. “First Tannie, then me, and now you.” Mom kissed my nose good night.
“Try to get some sleep; it will be morning soon.” The clock by my bed had flipped over to four o’clock; I flipped over to the left.
A mockingbird started singing like crazy right outside my window. I couldn’t help but think of Tannie and her farm in Mississippi; there are lots of mockingbirds at Tannie’s.
I fluffed up my pillow. I flopped to the right. I wished I could see Tannie soon.
I turned onto my back and then onto my tummy. No matter whether I curled up tight or straightened myself out, I could not get to sleep. That crazy bird would not stop singing.
I could only think of Tannie, my very most favorite aunt.
We’re all the family Tannie has left in the world since her husband, Louis, died. I’ve heard stories about him; he’s famous in my family. Everyone called him “Saint Louis” because he was such a good man and the only one with patience enough to handle Tannie’s strong will. I never did get to meet Saint Louis; he died before I was born.
Now, other than the chickens, Tannie lives alone with her cat, Butt.
When we visit, Tannie’s rooster acts like he is the boss of me. I have to be careful around him. Once, I tried to pet him, and he bit my finger. It didn’t bleed, but it made me cry. The chickens are way nicer than that mean old rooster.
Tannie can make a chicken sound even better than a chicken:
“Bock-bock-bock-be-Gock! Bock-bock-bock-be-Gock!”
Tannie loves those chickens like they are her babies. Maybe that’s because she never had any babies of her own. I yawned. Actually, Butt is the biggest baby of all.
I yawned again and thought of how sweet Butt is to the chickens. Butt is so sweet, he even shows the rooster his tummy, and he never, ever lifts a paw to hurt the hens.
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