Goat On a Rope

- Goat Dog -

When I was a little girl, two or so, I had a goat. My dad said I used to hold on to that goat by a rope. I don't remember the rope part, but I do remember standing in the backyard with the goat while Daisy (my grandma) hung clothes on the line. That is one of my staying memories, whispered back to me when I use my own clothesline. Oh, to be caught between two sheets as they blow in the wind, standing in a child's secret garden, smelling the rich scent of cotton fabric drying in the sun. Baby, you can't buy that feeling.

At night, Daisy would make me wash my feet in the bathroom sink before we went to bed. I thought this was an old timey ritual, but now I know that children run on their bare soles, which become as tough and nasty as a pair of shoes. We would then slide between the slightly rough, but clean, sheets, and she would tell me made up stories, the same ones she had also told my dad as a child, about a little rabbit who had to cross a canyon to get to his birthday cake, or a little frog who had to jump out of a puddle that was quickly filling with rainwater. I had no idea what a canyon was, I just figured it looked like Rough Creek (well, I guess I did have an idea), and I see now that a frog is probably not going to drown in water. These memories that were made without premeditation have the most value to me.

Children's feet are so delicate at first. My mom called mine little blocks of chili. I passed this traditional name on to one of my children, and referred to the other one's toes as little grapes (as seen from the bottom side). Once they became mobile, though, they could have been fire-walkers. We lived in a house that had a yard full of stickers that got transferred to the kids' feet, the older one in particular. When we went fishing and he would fall asleep, I'd pick stickers out of him until he twitched so hard that he nearly woke up. It was one of those things that parents do that seem wrong because mostly it was done for a laugh. A good, deep, gut laugh.

Lordy, I hope that's not one of that child's earliest memories.