Happy Birthday

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I heard him call, “Old clothes, trash, tires. Old clothes, trash, tires.”
I looked from my bedroom window to see a sway-backed old horse pulling a wagon slowly down the street. Two children jumped out as it neared our house, a girl about nine -- just about my age -- and her brother, who was a little older. Although it was a chilly September morning, she wore only a light cotton, ragged, rather dirty dress. She didn’t look very clean either and her hair was a mess. Both she and her brother were barefoot. The rag man stayed in the wagon.
They ran, one on each side of the street, to the end of the block, then began knocking on every door as they came back towards the wagon. Most houses had something for them and they were soon loaded down with trash which they brought to the rag man. He had stopped the horse in front of our house and climbed down from the wagon with difficulty. I thought he looked a little like my father had, before he died, with his thin, lined face, stooped shoulders, so tired and discouraged. He put oats in a bag, slipped it over the horse’s muzzle, patting and talking to him as he did. Then, climbing back into the wagon, he began sorting through the donations, separating them into neat piles of clothing, shoes, tires and undefinable junk.
Mother had already left for work and I was dressing for school. There would be Assembly today so I wore my new dress because I was singing in the choir.
I ran downstairs when I heard a knock on the door. There she stood, trying to wrap herself in her ragged sweater. She averted her eyes as she asked if I had any trash I didn’t want? I felt embarrassed to have her see me in my new dress. Is she the white trash Mother warned me about? I asked her to wait while I ran back upstairs. Shouldn’t ask her into our house. She might steal something And besides, she should be going to school.
I gathered up two dresses, a sweater, socks and a pair of shoes that I had almost outgrown. Downstairs again, I put them in her outstretched arms and closed the door before she could say anything more, but not before I saw her face brighten with a smile.
I peeked through the living room curtains to see what her father would do. as she held out the treasures to him. He said something to her, hugged her close and gave her back all my clothes. It surprised me to see he was crying. Her brother arrived just then with a worn out tire which he threw into the wagon. She showed him what she had and all three were laughing now.
The father, as they settled in the wagon, gave each child some coins. The girl thanked him, saying, “For me, For myself?” Father rag man smiled and said, “Happy Birthday, Jennie,” as the horse began to pull the wagon slowly down the street.
It felt good to think that Jennie would be wearing my pretty dresses. I wondered how long it would be before Mother would find out they were missing and what I would tell her when she did. I wished my father was still here.


Jeane Davidson
August 22, 2007