Henry

Henry

Henry was small for his age.  At his home, his job was to sit by the hearth and do odd jobs.  He often shelled nuts, darned socks and stirred the soup in the kettle hanging over the fire.  Henry’s parents often fussed over him, not only because he was their youngest child, but also because he was their only child, out of many, that was not strong and healthy. 

Every day, Henry’s parents would take his many brothers and sisters out with them to hunt and forage for food.  But they never took Henry.  As they often explained to him, Henry simply was too small and too weak.   Therefore, he was not allowed to go.  So, every day, he meekly waited by the hearth, in the daily loneliness and emptiness of his home. He was obedient, always doing his small chores, but he felt like his whole day was spent waiting for everyone to come home.  For that was his favorite part of the day. 

His parents, along with his many brothers and sisters, would suddenly and happily burst through the door, tromping inside and plunking down their sacks of food and found objects.  They would fill up the front room with the scent of the outside world, their faces full of exhilaration. Then the excitement would begin! His family members would start opening their sacks and pulling out all of their goodies.  Sometimes they would extract some strange or beautiful object they had found.  

But the best part of all came after dinner.  Directly after noisily downing a hearty meal, the family would gather around the hearth and commence with the story telling.  Oh, how he loved to hear their stories of how they collected this bit of food or came by that item.  He heard fabulous tales of bravery, quick wits and close calls.  He relished every bit of news of the outside world that he heard.  Oh, he wanted to go with them so badly!  “Someday, sweetheart, you will be strong enough to go with us,” his mother would say tenderly when he would beg to go with them.  She would then stroke his head and wrap a warm sweater around his thin shoulders.

“Keep doing your exercises like the doctor says and you will be strong and healthy in no time!” his father would say at these times. 

“Yeah,” a brother or sister would sigh, “then you will find out that it’s a lot of work to go out every day.”

“You’re lucky!” the others would say in envy.

Even though Henry always did his exercises, he never felt like he was getting stronger or healthier.  He certainly never felt lucky to be stuck at home by the hearth while he waited for everyone to come home.   Every day he grew more tired of waiting for his day to come.  

One time, in particular, he left his work to idle by the hearth and crept to the window.  After a moment of hesitation, he dared to lift open the window and feel the fresh air against his own cheek.  Then he quickly shut the window and looked around him.  No one had seen him disobey.  He sighed and trudged back to the hearth.  

That night, as usual, his family tromped inside, their faces glowing with the air of the outside world.  As usual, no one asked Henry about his day because what was there to ask?  They could see the basket of darned socks, they were grateful for the shelled nuts and they could see that he was busy with another task for them.  Oh how they loved Henry, but perhaps they did not always tell him.  He was obedient and did as he was told, but inside himself he was starting to bubble with impatience.

One day, long after everyone had left to hunt and forage for food, Henry got bored.  He put his knitting aside and walked up the stairs to see if he could find anything fun to do.  He found nothing.  Just as he was about to go downstairs, something in the window caught his eye.  Something yellow and gleaming…it was, in fact, an eye.   In shock, he recoiled and started to stumble down the stairs.  He figured the basement would be the safest place to be at that moment.  But then he heard his name being called, “Henry!  Henry!”  Who was that?  Surprised, he stopped and turned around. Curiosity winning over his fear, he started walking back up the stairs towards the voice.   Who could be calling him? As he reached the top of the stairs, he now saw the entirety of the face that went with the eye.  It was an enormous owl!  

Right where the eye had been was a gorgeous piece of cake with frosting whirled across the top.  Cautiously, Henry looked through the window to get a better look at that piece of cake.  “Hello!” said the voice in a friendly manner.  With lightening quick moves, Henry opened up the window, snatched the cake and shut the window quickly.  The glorious and rather unexpected treat went down his throat pleasantly.  Henry was on the floor, searching for any crumbs he had left behind, when the voice called again.  “Henry!”  The voice cried plaintively through the glass.   “Henry, I’m so lonely out here!  Won’t you be my friend?”  Henry slowly stood up and peered out the window.  Yes, he was not imagining things.  It was the owl that was asking to be his friend.  Cautiously, he opened the window a little crack and fearfully replied, “No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Owl.   For you see, my Mummy and Daddy would not like it.” 

“Oh…” said the owl sadly, with a small tear escaping one of his large, golden eyes.  “I don’t wish you any harm, little one.  It’s so lonely being an owl. I see you sitting by the hearth every day with no one else around.  You must be lonely as well.”

“Well,” said Henry thoughtfully, his wee hand ready to shut the window, just in case.  “I am lonely without anyone around.  But my Mummy and Daddy said to never ever talk to owls.”

“Tut, tut!”  Clicked the forlorn and beautiful creature as another tear coursed down his downy cheek.  “I won’t harm you at all.  Didn’t I bring you a piece of cake?”

Just then, Henry heard the unmistakable voices of his family coming home.  “I must go!  But you can come back to visit me again!” he promised as he shut the window firmly.  He made sure to lock it properly before racing down the stairs to pick up his knitting.  As usual, his family tromped inside, their faces glowing with the air of the outside world.  As usual, no one asked Henry about his day because what was there to ask?  They could see the basket of darned socks, they were grateful for the shelled nuts and they could see that he was busily knitting something for them.  Oh, how they loved Henry, but perhaps they did not always tell him.

That evening, as the family roared with laughter over a brother’s antics, Henry’s mother poked Father in his side, “Say now, doesn’t little Henry look so much stronger lately?”

Taking a long look at his tiny boy, Father slowly and wisely nodded his grey head in agreement, “Yes, he does appear a bit more robust.  It won’t be long, Mother, until he’s ready to venture outside with the rest of the family.”

Mother’s face lit up with joy.  “Perhaps we should let him know!” she whispered to Father. 

“No, not yet, Mother.  I don’t want him to get so excited that if he has to wait a bit longer, he gets discouraged.  Let’s just wait until we think he is truly ready.”

“Oh, yes, my dear.  What an excellent idea.” Mother sat back and rocked a bit more in her rocking chair, with a mother’s smile across her worn face.  She felt full, not just from dinner, but with love and pride for her little boy.

The next day, when everyone was about to go outside for the daily hunting and foraging, Mother could not help herself.  She leaned down and whispered in Henry’s ear, “Be sure to do your exercises, son!” 

Henry, thinking that perhaps this was indeed the day that he would finally get to go with his family, sighed with disappointment.  He did not need to be reminded to do his exercises…again!  “Yes, Mother,” he replied sadly.

“That’s my good boy,” Mother ruffled his hair and smiled warmly at her little boy.  “Now, good bye.”

Resigned to his daily exercises and chores, Henry plopped down by the hearth and began to shell some nuts.  It was not long before he heard a tap, tap, tapping at the second floor window.  Excited, he jumped up and left his work behind.  As he made his way up the stairs, he once again saw the large, golden eye in the window, but this time, he was not afraid.  Boldly, he approached the eye and saw it back up to reveal the owl’s full face.  “I’m so glad you came!” cried the owl through the window.

Without thinking, Henry opened up the window and leaned out.   “Of course I came, Mr. Owl.  It’s nice to have a friend.”

At that, the Owl replied, “Oh dear boy, please call me Ventana.”

“Okay,” said the boy, shyly.

“Look!  I’ve brought you some candy.”

Henry eagerly reached out for the bright pink candy and then hesitated, remembering his manners, “Thank you, Mr.…. um Ventana.”

The large owl’s beak opened into a smile.  “Henry, I am glad that you are my friend.”  Then, as Henry munched on the sugary treats, they started chatting away about all sorts of things.  Ventana was curious about all the things that Henry did to fill his day.  Having rarely been asked about the details of his chores, Henry was flattered that such a noble bird would want to hear all about them.  They talked, well; Henry talked, for quite some time before Henry thought it best to get back to his chores.  He did not want to be found slacking and consequently never get to go hunting and foraging with his family.  

When his family burst through the door that evening, with bright and happy faces, filling up the front room with their sacks, no one noticed anything different about Henry.  But, what was there to notice?   As usual, Henry had completed his small chores and the stew was bubbling merrily in the kettle hanging over the fire.  Boy, did it smell delicious!  When could they eat?  Oh, how they loved Henry, but perhaps they did not always tell him. 

And so, the days slowly turned into weeks.  As the days passed, Henry and Ventana’s special friendship grew. And so did Henry’s impatience.  Thanks to the special treats Ventana delivered to the upstairs window, Henry’s shoulders and tummy were getting rounder.  His parents’ faces beamed when they looked upon their smallest child.  Obviously all of those exercises the Doctor had prescribed were bringing about results. They were often secretly nudging each other in positive joy.  They knew how dearly Henry wanted to go into the outside world with the rest of the family.  Any day now, their Henry would be joining the family in the daily hunting and foraging. Even Henry seemed to glow, as he grew bigger and stronger.  What Henry’s parents did not realize was that he glowed with the private knowledge of his secret friendship. 

It just so happened that sometimes Ventana and Henry discussed his parents’ reluctance to allow him to venture out with the rest of the family.  To Henry, it felt as if only Ventana truly understood his dreams.  Certainly Ventana was a special friend.  Ventana always seemed to have time to listen to him, unlike his large family.  Why, most of the time it was difficult to even get a word in edgewise!  On occasion, he thought he might actually starve to death during dinner as there were always others talking loudly or interrupting the conversation so that he could barely make himself be heard.  “Please pass the peas!” He might shout over the racket of the feeding frenzy.  But, IF they heard him and IF the peas were actually passed…well, he had numerous older and sizable siblings who would partake of the bowl as it passed in front of them.  Therefore, it was not unusual for his hands to receive the serving dish and for his eyes to find it empty.  It was at those times that he would remind himself of Ventana and his generous gifts.  Surely his tummy would be filled in the morning!

One such morning, Henry was boiling over with frustration.  He was hungry!  Thank goodness Ventana happened to bring an extra large piece of cake with luscious buttercream frosting that morning.  As Henry stuffed his mouth with the moist cake, Ventana looked at him curiously.  “My dear Henry, why don’t you just…go outside?”

His mouth gooey and sticky with a large portion of cake, Henry could barely breathe, let alone talk.  He shook his head at Ventana.  Once some of the gummy cake had gone down to visit his tummy, he spoke (although he was spitting cake crumbs as he did so), “Oh no!  I’m not ever, ever to go out until my Mummy and Daddy tell me I can.”

“Why not?” queried the owl, his head cocked slightly.  “You certainly look big enough and strong enough to me.  Look at you!” he exclaimed.

And Henry did, he did look down at himself.  He patted his large tummy; he flexed his legs and then his arms for Ventana.  He wore a proud smile, his chin up high and his teeth covered in cake, of course. “I do look big and strong, don’t I?” he answered in complete joy.

“Yes, you do, very much so!” encouraged Ventana.  “Why don’t you climb out this window onto my wing?  I could carry you to the ground.  Yes!  You could sit right here and I could lower you to the ground.  Then you would be free to go about as you please!”

 “You know,” Henry paused, “I could just run downstairs and open the front door myself.”  Quite frankly, he was a bit scared to think of being lowered all the way to the ground outside.

“Could you?” asked Ventana, suddenly sounding a bit breathless.  I thought your folks always locked you inside each time they left.  Wouldn’t you need a key?”

“Oh, yeah,” Henry remembered.  “It’s just…that…it’s a long ways down,” he confessed.

“You will be just fine, my dear.  I will be very careful.  You know you are my special friend!”

“Ventana IS my special friend,” he reminded himself.  With that thought, Henry, filled to the brim with cake and excitement, attempted to heave himself up onto the windowsill.  “I’ll get something to stand on!” he called to Ventana as he scurried down the hall and picked up a stool.  

As he walked back to the window carrying the stool, he pondered, “It’s funny that Mummy and Daddy told me to never ever talk to an owl.  Huh. They just don’t know Ventana like I do.”  And with that, he climbed up the stool and hoisted himself onto the windowsill.  Ventana’s beak opened into a smile and Henry smiled back at his friend.  Then, he happily crawled onto Ventana’s outstretched wing and before he knew it, plop! into the enormous owl’s mouth.   

And that was the end of Henry the mouse.

The End.