“I don’t know papa. Maybe I’m just use to people laughing at me because I’m different, when in reality I laugh at people because they are all the same.” Henry chuckles out softly.


When Mr. Spencer knocked on the farm house door, Celeste was nervous as all hell.  She gives her grandfather a terrified gaze unsure if she would meet the requirements of being home schooled.  Henry smiles and answers the door to the middle age scholar. Mr. Spencer is not your normal bookworm who looks like a geek.  Instead he is easy on the eyes and shines with goodness.  Celeste gives the young man a through examination with her eagle orbs as he speaks to her grandfather before noticing her.  His warm walnut variant medium brown hair is short and hand combed, while his clean shaven handsome face, and crisp blue eyes speak of wonders and knowledge. His height is six feet tall not muscular, but decent for a bookworm.  She liked him on the spot and knew he would be a great teacher.

“Hi Celeste, my name is Mr. Kenneth Spencer.  Nice to meet you today.”  The teacher announces as he stretches out his hand for her to shake. Taking her time she slowly reaches out to make contact with the stranger’s hand while casting her vision upon the kitchen’s floor. Mr. Spencer holds onto her hand until Celeste acknowledge his presence with her eyes.  “Oh my, two lovely different color of eyes you have, and you’re tall for being only thirteen.  I bet you give people something to chat about huh?”  Celeste just nodded yes with her head and becomes shy under his knowledgeable eyes.  “I like her Henry,” Mr. Spencer instantly stated.  The little cowgirl smiles a little and offers their visitor a glass of lemonade.  Mr. Spencer accepts and sits down at the large round table in the kitchen, Henry follows suit.  

Mr. Spencer plunges in and states to Henry while Celeste pours everyone a glass of cold lemonade.  “Your grandfather tells me he would like you to learn more about the Native American culture.”  Celeste turns on her new boot heels and gives the gentlemen their drinks.  “Yes I’m half-breed Cherokee and Scottish,” she offers a reply in a timid voice and sits down to join the gentlemen at the table. In the end the conversation was a success as they spoke about all subjects.  Mr. Spencer is happy and excited to begin his lessons with the little cowgirl as he walks out the door.  “See you in two weeks Celeste,” he yells out as he gets into his car to leave the farm.  Henry and Celeste wave good-bye to the bookworm and watch him drive away.

Henry gives his granddaughter a smile and says, “How about going fishing?”  Celeste gives her papa a happy face and runs to get her supplies.  They walk deep into the woods for over an hour to get to a fishing spot Henry goes too on a regular basis.  “Papa you’ve never brought me here why now?”  “It’s my private place girl, and there is a big fish in there I have been trying for years to get. Maybe together one of us will catch him.”  Celeste’s eyes glow with delight and nods her head silently while putting her bait on the hook. Before she threw her line into the easy flowing stream, she gives her papa a loving gawk, and takes note how much she loved this man in her life.  She ponders on the thought for a split second what her world would be like without her guiding light of hope, and shakes her uneasy thoughts away in fear she might muck up a good thing thinking bad thoughts.

She feels the light warm breeze caress her face and takes a deep breath loving the great outdoors when she cast her fishing line out into the flowing water.  Celeste is quiet for a split second when she thinks she hears laughter.  She gives her papa a confused look and states, “Papa why ya laughing at me?”  Henry is smoking his pipe sitting on a large boulder with his line in the water.  “Why would I laugh at you girl?” he offers.  Celeste shrugs her shoulders and scans the wooded terrain deep in thought and states, “I don’t know papa.  Maybe I’m just use to people laughing at me because I’m different, when in reality I laugh at people because they are all the same.”  Henry chuckles out softly.  She scouts out the scene one more time and comes to the conclusion that Henry couldn’t hear what she heard in the wind when her fishing pole bends with a bite on the hook.


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5 thoughts on ““I don’t know papa. Maybe I’m just use to people laughing at me because I’m different, when in reality I laugh at people because they are all the same.” Henry chuckles out softly.

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