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I looked at Mann's worn hands; how could she nimble them up? Would she ever play her accordion again, still packed in our old trunk? I liked our house, but best of all was the hearth, built with solid rock extending clear across one wall, a wide, wide shelf for kettles N' a special spot for Papa's clock where fire light fell upon it. As the creek became silent under the ice and my breath blew white in the air, I could see my sleigh hanging in Grandpa Falter's shed. Wouldn't it be fun to try it on the thick ice? (I would not mention it to Mama, so many jobs to do; there was not time to fret and yet----how I longed for Grandpa Falter and my sleigh.) Each day Mama counted the savings, and each day only a few loss went on the hearth, but in mid winter when the howling winds whipped about out house, "Jens", she said, "Bring an extra log." Mama had opened the old trunk, unpacked her accor- dion. We sat by the hearth, making games out of flames until they all lay smoldering, and Mama played her accordion. Once again I heard her sing. We sang often after that. It kept our hearts in tune! By Christmas Mama had taught me some chords on the accordion. "You learn quickly Jens, just like your Father." I felt proud to hear her say that. When other kids were skating on the ice, I practiced on my chords. I was soon playing "Valtz en gang vit ye", and winter nights went faster, and soon it was spring. As the trees began to bud and the air smelled green again, planting time grew near, but Mama looked troubled. I saw her empty the savings jar, "Jens" , she said, "We must buy seed, for you must get it in the ground so we can reap in the fall work, and there was no time for singing, in fact I could not find the accordin, even when I felt like strumming a chord or two. "Mama, have you let Brother Mickleson borrow our accordion?" (Brother Mickelson was in and out our house more than I liked anyway.) "No Jens, don't ask questions; just do your jobs well." - 44 - |
